FLASH
Shkruar nga Sokol Pepushaj
Saliu is itchy and beautiful, no one believes it...
Sali Berisha, at the end of his road, has blocked the road to democracy. The quarrels between the brawlers, through the pits and corners of corruption, neither give a signal that they will stop Edi Rama on his journey towards the wood-burning oven where the thieves will be roasted, nor give signs that America will repent and say; Babloku, Kimetja, Neza and MccGonigal were wrong and 'Non-Grata' should be removed, because yes, this one wears more gracefully the scarf embroidered with charming tassels on his head.
Saliu itches and beautifies, no one believes it.
After being kicked out, slurred and slurred like a drunkard in the fumes of his crimes by McGonigal, Yuri Kim and Babloku, he never sobers up again.
Intoxicated by kasaphana in the village of kasaba, no one has the cassava, except the Sultan of Surrel who is still holding it as a susak, to give water to his donkeys, who has released laverda to the fields of the village.
The gourd container holds only the laundry.
The oppressor who has crushed human freedoms and rights to pieces, still calls the internationals as an accomplice, to put shoes on the horses that gather for the night in the salt pan.
The jack, a cracker of bones, no longer lifts heavy weights, even though the cattle need to be weighed for mental state after licking the salt slates, which, frankly, are just being used as paft for Abbot Bablok's Arab fringed waistcoat. .
Closed as a monk in the abbey, the only thunder that pierces his ear drum is the call from Olympus, stop Sali!/ Pamphlet
Lini një Përgjigje