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Thenie-Proverba |
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Me njeriun tend duhet te kesh nje koder ne mes.
--- Populli
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Reklama |
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Menuja |
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Vizitoret e castit? |
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Kemi 91 vizitor(e) dhe 0 anetar(e) ne faqe ne kete moment.
Ju jeni vizitor anonim. Mund te rregjistroheni ne cast falas duke klikuar ketu
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Perkujtimore |
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Nje dite si kjo ...
2008 "Afėrdita"
Nė 2 maj 1908 njė grup atdhetarėsh formuan nė Elbasan shoqėrinė "Afėrdita", e cila krojoi edhe grupin e bandės sė qytetit, ndėrsa kish synim tė ngrinte njė palestėr sportive, dhe tė merrej me botimin e librave shkollorė.
Greva e Bukes
Nė 2 maj 1928 gratė e Korēės organizuan grevėn e bukės, qė ishte njė nga grevat e para tė kėtij lloji nė vendin tonė.
Temo Konomi
Nė 2 maj 1937 u vra pranė Barcelonės Temo Konomi, hero i Popullit, luftėtar i brigadave ndėrkombėtare pjesėmarrėse nė Luftėn e Spanjės.
Nikola Guerra
Nė 2 maj 1855 u lind baletmaestri italian Nikola Guerra, i cili luajti njė rol tė rėndėsishėm nė artin koreografik tė vendit tė tij dhe botės. Gjithashtu ishte pedagog nė mjaft teatro tė Evropės, si dhe regjisor qė vuri nė skenė mbi 30 balete, ku dallojmė: "Prometeu", "Karnevalet e Venedikut", "Marshi triumfal", etj.
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Ne vazhdim te ketij artikulli do te gjeni vjershat 1.O Moj Shqypni nga Pashko Vasa dhe 2.Bageti e Bujqesi nga Naim Frasheri te perkthyera ne anglisht nga Prof. Peter Prifti. Per ata qe pelqejne te lexojne apo studiojne letersine shqiptare, dua tu kujtoj lidhjen e Letėrsisė e cila ndodhet ne krye te faqes sone.
Pashko Vasa (1880) E perktheu ne anglisht Prof. Peter Prifti
O MOJ SHQIPNI
O moj Shqipni, e mjera Shqipni kush te ka qitė me krye nė hi? Ti ke pas kenė njė zonjė e rande burrat e dheut te thirshin nanė Ke pasė shumė t'mira e begati me vajza t'bukra, me djem t'ri Gja e vend shumė, ara e bashtina me armė tė bardha e pushkė ltina me burra trima, me gra tė dlira ti ndėr gjithe shoqet ke kene ma e mira Kur krista pushka si me shkrep moti Zogu i shqiptarit gjithmonė i zoti ka qėnė pėr luftė e n'luft ka vdekun e dhunė mbrapa kurr s'i ka mbetun Kur ka lidh besėn burri i Shqipnisė I ka shti dridhėn gjithė Rumelisė ndėr lufta t'rrepta gjithkund ka ra me faqe t'bardhė gjithmonė asht da Po sot, Shqipni, pa m'thuej si je? Po sikur lisi i rrxuem perdhe Shkon bota sipri, me kambė tė shklet e njė fjalė tė ambėl askush s'ta flet Si mal me borė, si fushė me lule ke pas ken veshun, sot je me cule e s'tė kan mbetun as emn, as besė vet' i ke prishun pėr faqe t'zezė Shqiptar',me vllazėn jeni tuj u vra ndėr njėqind ēeta jeni shpėrnda... Qani ju shpata e ju dyfeqe shqiptari u zu si zog ndėr leqe Qani ju trima bashkė me ne Se ra Shqipnia me faqe n'dhe E s'i ka mbetun as bukė as mish as zjarm nė votėr as dritė as pishė as gjak nė faqe as nder ndėr shokė por asht rrėxue e bamun trokė Para se t'hupet kėshtu Shqipnia me pushkė n'dorė le t'desė trimnia Ēoniu shqiptarė prej gjumit ēoniu tė gjithė si vllazėn n'njė besė shtrėngoniu e mos shikoni kisha e xhamia feja e shqiptari asht shqiptaria Qysh prej Tivarit deri n'Prevezė gjithkund lshon dielli vapė edhe rrezė asht toka jone, prind na e kan lane kush mos na e prekė se desim t'tanė
ALBANIA Oh, poor Albania, bruised from lashes Who dared push your face in ashes? Hailed once a woman of noble birth, Mother you were called by men of this Earth. Rich you were, to tell the truth. With lovely girls and handsome youth, With lots of cattle, gardens, farms With Latin rifle and other arms With men of courage and women of cheer In all the world you had no peer.
When guns boomed like the crack of thunder Albanias men rushed out of yonder, And always fought well, till the end came, And never soiled their name with shame. When men of Albania pledged to fight, All of Rumelia shivered with fright, In fierce battles they fought and died, With honor their memory inscribed.
But now, Albania, youre a sight of woe Just like an oak tree brought down low! All step on you as if you were dead, And not one kind word to you is said. Once you dressed well, like a woman high-born, Today, your fine robes are badly torn, Youve lost your name, your faith, too, And none is to blame for it but you.
Albanians, you are slaying one another, Some shout for country, some against sin, One says Im Turk, another Latin, Others Greeks or Slavs profess to be, Fools! You are brothers cant you see?
Priests and mullas have made you mute To keep you split and destitute. Foreigners sit by your fireplace, Your wives and sisters they disgrace, And if money comes knocking on your door The faith of your father you ignore, You become slaves of alien boors, Whose race and tongue differ from yours.
Weep, oh your rifles and you who care Albanians, like birds, are caught in a snare, Weep with us, you warriors all around, For Mother Albania, lying on ground; She has no bread or meat to eat, Nor fire in the hearth, not light or heat, Pale of cheek and unrespected, She lies broken and neglected! Gather you women, so pretty and spry, Who know so well to weep and cry. For shes shorn of honor and forlorn, Shes like a widow whose man is gone, Shes like a mother without a son!
Who has the heart to let cruel death, Take this brave women, panting for breath? Can we allow aliens to smother And trample on our cherished Mother? No, no! Such shame no one can beat, Such vile conduct all men forswear! Let warriors die carrying the banner Before Albania is lost in this manner
Awake, Albania, its time to rise And bind yourselves with brotherly ties; Look not to church or mosque for pietism, The faith of Albanians is Albanianism!
From Tivar all the way to Preveze The sun sends down its light and rays; Its our land, the land of our ancestors, To the death well defend it from predators Better to die for it like the man of old, Than in shame before the Lord!
NAIM FRASHERI
Bagėti e Bujqėsi(pjese)
O malet' e Shqiperise e ju o lisat' e gjate! Fushat e gjera me lule, q'u kam nder ment dit' e nate! Ju bregore bukuroshe e ju lumenjt' e kulluar! cuka, kodra, brinja gerxhe dhe pylle te gjelberuar! Do te kendoj bagetine qe mbani ju e ushqeni, O vendthit e bekuar, ju mendjen ma defreni
Ti Shqiperi, me ep nder, me ep emrin shqiptar, Zemren ti ma gatove plot me deshire e me zjarr.
Shqiperi, o mema ime, ndonese jam i merguar, Dashurine tende kurre zemra s'e ka harruar.
Heards and Pastures, To Albania
You mountains of Albania, you trees of towering height, You meadows broad, all full of flowers, you're with me day and night. You stately magnificent hills, you rivers bright and sheen, You knolls and boulders, rocks and crags, you woodlands clad in green. I dream of all the flocks and herds you feed and rear and house, O blessed spot, what joy in me, what longing you arouse!
You do me very honour that I bear Albania's name, For you it is who made me, and who fill my heart with flame.
Albania, O Mother mine, though we are far apart, My loving memory of you lies ever in my heart!
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