Ilir Shaqiri
Me Flatra Shqiponje
ShqipI
Nga Konçuli i moçëm rrënjë shqiptarije
ngjallet e ringjallet n'troje ilirije
e vijn brez pas brezi e vijn djal pas dajli
n'zemër flak lirije n'mendje idealin
heu lugina ime që kur na kan ndarë
por nuk ndahet jo njaj shpirti shqiptar
jemi kock e vjetër që se tret as dheu
që nga mbret Agroni gjer te Skënderbeu
ref...2x
sikur digjet toka sikur fryn veriu
me flatra shqiponje vjen Jonuz Musliu
ku ka front e luft ku ka flak rrufeje
rreshtohet me shokët mu në ball beteje
II
Ne nuk kishim tanke ne nuk kishim topa
veç male me shkrepa veç fusha me gropa
po zjarri i lirisë nuk u shua kurrë
me plumb e me hekur djali bëhej burrë
hej Jonuz Musliu prijës në luft e n'paqe
sot kujtimit yt na nxjerr lot në faqe
por është veç një çast një çast mallëngjimi
kur nga përjetësia na lartësohet trimi
ref...2x
sikur digjet toka sikur fryn veriu
me flatra shqiponje vjen Jonuz Musliu
ku ka front e luft ku ka flak rrufeje
rreshtohet me shokët mu në ball beteje
Nga Konçuli i moçëm rrënjë shqiptarije
ngjallet e ringjallet n'troje ilirije
e vijn brez pas brezi e vijn djal pas dajli
n'zemër flak lirije n'mendje idealin
heu lugina ime që kur na kan ndarë
por nuk ndahet jo njaj shpirti shqiptar
jemi kock e vjetër që se tret as dheu
që nga mbret Agroni gjer te Skënderbeu
ref...2x
sikur digjet toka sikur fryn veriu
me flatra shqiponje vjen Jonuz Musliu
ku ka front e luft ku ka flak rrufeje
rreshtohet me shokët mu në ball beteje
II
Ne nuk kishim tanke ne nuk kishim topa
veç male me shkrepa veç fusha me gropa
po zjarri i lirisë nuk u shua kurrë
me plumb e me hekur djali bëhej burrë
hej Jonuz Musliu prijës në luft e n'paqe
sot kujtimit yt na nxjerr lot në faqe
por është veç një çast një çast mallëngjimi
kur nga përjetësia na lartësohet trimi
ref...2x
sikur digjet toka sikur fryn veriu
me flatra shqiponje vjen Jonuz Musliu
ku ka front e luft ku ka flak rrufeje
rreshtohet me shokët mu në ball beteje
With The Wings Of The Eagle
AnglishtI
from the old Konçul, roots of Albania,
lives and revives, in the lands of Illyria.
and they come generation after generation, and they come boy after boy,
in heart: fire of freedom, in mind: the ideal.
hey my dear valley, long time since they've seperated us,
but the alabnian sould can't be seperated,
we are an old bone that even the clay can't decompose;
from king Agron and to Skanderbeg.
2x
like the land is burning, like the north wind blows,
with the winds of the eagle comes Jonuz Musliu,
in every front and war, in every lightning strike,
in the front of war he lines with his friends.
II
we didn't have tanks, we didn't have cannonballs,
just mountains with cliffs, only fields with pits.
but the fire of freedom never got extinguished,
with bullets and iron, the boy becomes a man.
hey Jonuz Musliu, leader in war and peace,
today your memory brings tears to our cheeks,
but it's only an emotional moment,
when our warrior lifts up to eternity.
2x
like the land is burning, like the north wind blows,
with the winds of the eagle comes Jonuz Musliu,
in every front and war, in every lightning strike,
in the front of war he lines with his friends.
from the old Konçul, roots of Albania,
lives and revives, in the lands of Illyria.
and they come generation after generation, and they come boy after boy,
in heart: fire of freedom, in mind: the ideal.
hey my dear valley, long time since they've seperated us,
but the alabnian sould can't be seperated,
we are an old bone that even the clay can't decompose;
from king Agron and to Skanderbeg.
2x
like the land is burning, like the north wind blows,
with the winds of the eagle comes Jonuz Musliu,
in every front and war, in every lightning strike,
in the front of war he lines with his friends.
II
we didn't have tanks, we didn't have cannonballs,
just mountains with cliffs, only fields with pits.
but the fire of freedom never got extinguished,
with bullets and iron, the boy becomes a man.
hey Jonuz Musliu, leader in war and peace,
today your memory brings tears to our cheeks,
but it's only an emotional moment,
when our warrior lifts up to eternity.
2x
like the land is burning, like the north wind blows,
with the winds of the eagle comes Jonuz Musliu,
in every front and war, in every lightning strike,
in the front of war he lines with his friends.
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