Up and down through the hills,
heading to a hundred wills,
whispers weave through fields of violets,
carried soft by sunlit sonnets.
Sunny roads and ancient stones,
echo back forgotten tones,
Shkodra dreams in silver light,
half awake and half in flight.

From Shkodra with love, I'm calling you near,
wherever you wander, your home is here.
This is no dream that just drifts away,
it's fate, like the Buna, in a shimmering sway.

You will find here hearts full of joy,
and a part of yourself you never knew,
a tender silence, soft and true,
living here, enclosed in a rose's hue.

Find your peace and come to this land,
your silences here will understand.
They'll bloom into songs and starry nights,
woven in dreams and soft golden lights

From Shkodra
From Shkodra with Love