We will show sometime,
when it's time to wipe them out
tracks on the skin,
how we lived
"Coronavirus Time",
little germ,
the invisible.
We will show,
how do i hide it,
the little soldier,
as for each other,
we felt good.
How we fought peacefully
and quiet,
how we stayed at home,
conscientiously,
we withstood the war,
saying NO to the road.
By changing every routine,
for life in quarantine.
When everyday,
paint it with the lens
of nostalgia,
we'll tell
like a child's tale,
"Love, in the time of Coronavirus"
so it was,
in grandfather's time.
You don't believe it today,
but at the time
could not go,
from Shkodra to Tirana,
the borders were closed to the sides.
This war,
knew no sword,
and why blood grazed the wounds,
fought only wisely,
it was no time for bravery.
We had to,
without embracing,
all together
and solidarity,
we were only seen on cell phones.
The enemy was small,
but there was ambush everywhere,
traveling from China,
stopped airplanes and cars.
The doctors were our heroes,
angels in white t-shirts,
challenged day by day
battles, with golden hands.
It was time for advice,
it was time to become one,
had no politics,
to separate us,
neither parties nor boundaries.
It was time for love.
* By Ambra Hysa
