Grass in the Window

The fruit is spoiling on my table,
I vow to pluck sour apples,
To hide their lifespan.

Someone who secretly loves me
Lays her unripe cheek on mine,
That I not taste unknown apples.

Spurn fruit in the evening,
She says in a distant tone
So that morning shoots will sprout in the mire.

Cast seed beyond the garden
When the seasons change and the foliage falls,
To keep your home so leaves won't conceal your face.

If grass gets in through your window,
Don't say the garden has grown up over your table,
Triumph of death over the verdant arch.

[Bari në dritare, from the volume Frutat bizare, Prishtina: Rilindja 1996, p. 14. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]