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I verified their meaning (including how they
were defined in different periods of time) in the
Gheg lexicon. Both words carry an immense
weight not only in the cultural sense but also
as an extension of that culture in social life
and religion. The word “Zeza(t),” especially
in terms of how it is used in the poem, denotes
much more than a lack of happiness or one
experiencing the darkest side of life. It describes
a deep grief or expresses sympathy for the loss
of a loved one. But in more casual and relaxed
surroundings it is also used like its English
corresponding word “poor,” as in “Ooo, poor
you…” or “leave the poor guy alone.”
“Ahiret,” on the other hand, signifies the
complete opposite of the word “Zeza.” In a
religious sense, “ahiret” is closer in meaning
to the highest joy, the safest place, or the
truest delight one can possibly have. But the
pleading tone in the first stanza, followed by
the mournful tone in the second, and concluded
by a displacement — ironic — tone in the last
stanza suggest that the word “ahiret” has a
deeper, more specific semantic mission in the
poem. It symbolizes, indeed, a religious word,
but in contrast, the women are expressing a plea
only for survival, for physical and psychological
peace or calmness in a very difficult moment.
In light of these considerations, in the third
and final draft of the poem, I replaced the word
black (zezat) with “mourning” and the word
“ahiret” with “hereafter.”
OCCURRENCE ON EARTH
To these deep gorges,
Through snow and wind,
come the mourning women
overflowing with prayers:
O God, accept the best among us
in your hereafter!
The mountains of Dibra slumber.
God is thinking.
Aircraft rush
from the east and south.
None of them brought back
their son from California.
The mourning women hug
their dead friend.
The good news is.
At least here
God is much older,
more merciful
than he is far away in California.
My reasoning was that the term “mourning”
would better serve the authorial intentions,
seeing the women temporarily rather than
permanently heartbroken. It also would serve
as a foil to the somewhat sarcastic first line of
the last stanza: “The good news is.” I further
believe that with the last stanza in mind, in an
attempt to keep a consistency between the sad
and sarcastic tones of the poem, I thought that
the word “hereafter” worked better for the poem
than “paradise(s)” or “heaven(s).”
There are two other words that I would
like to bring to the reader’s attention. They are
“bohemë” and “makare,” neither of which are
part of the Albanian lexicon. The first occurs
in “Death comes and goes” and the second
in “Occurrence on earth,” the poem already
discussed. For both words, as a part of the
process, I conducted thorough research in other
languages as well. As I found out, in French
“bohème” denotes a gypsy and means (the
same thing as it means nowadays in Albanian)
a homeless person or a wanderer who does not
live up to his/her civil responsibilities. There
are two reasons that justify Zogaj’s choice.
First, the homeless phenomenon as we know
it here in America, at least until the time the
poem was written, did not exist in Albania. For
a long time, “homelessness” was only known
in anti-American communist propaganda;
many Albanians believed it a myth. Second, for
Translation Review 49