Toka jone e mire, toka jone e pagoje (Our land so mute, our land so good),
Do ta shtrydhi fjalen derisa gjak t’pikoje (I will wring your words ’til they drip with blood),

Te te flas nga gjaku, pastaj fjales sime (’til from the blood to you I intone),
T’i vije ere e gurit, ere e fares se mbime (And my words smell of sown seed and stone),

T’hepohem me ty mbi valet e cdo shtergate (’til with you o’er the waves of each storm I sway),
T’behem nje grusht dhe i mire i ares sate (And I become a fistful of your fields’ rich clay).
– pgs. 28-29, Kushtimi (Promise), Blood of the Quill