Although it’s still summer
the surrounding peaks
are white with clouds of snow.
The creek by the road is springing like a goat.
You think, here it’s more beautiful than in heaven
but that overpowering thought is relieved
by a sudden shower: you seek shelter
in a bower gone wild by a ruined house.
In the living room, kitchen, hallway,
a plum tree, rose hip, nettles, thistles.
Behind the house an orchard,
Translated by Omer Hadžiselimović
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