The fog wrapped the path hiding in the Alps
Like a white veil slowly embraces the hill top,
The light morning breeze
Plays the sounds of a forgotten romance
Somewhere in the walled-up portrait of girlhood, Isabel.
Far away under the Alps
Fossils of jewelry are covered with frost-dew, Isabel.
The silent path
Is revived by the soft whispers of leaves,
Passers-by cover small footprints
Intoxicating aroma of perfumes, Isabel.
Maybe you, statue split at the head,
Float through the depths of the space of 100 years
Like the body of an abandoned boat
Into the sweet waters of the lake of life, Isabel.
The grass leafs should be blooming
On our bare valley, too
I imagine it dawning again
From your wet smile
While evenings fall bare
On a sad woman’s soul, Isabel.
Translated by Mirela Cupi with Paul Cohn