for my grandfather
A flower sprouts upon the gravestone,Beneath Trebeshinë covered in snow.The winter bird alights upon it,From a long journey, and waves a greeting.
And the Vjosa flows and flows so slowly,Like a sonata, like a symphony.So you may sleep beneath this mountain,In everlasting peace...
And the flower stretches and catches the breeze,Upon a stone that bears your name.It is my longing, growing and growing,For I am never close at hand.
Winter draws no breath, has no soul, no mouth,So that my longing may bloom!
