I am the fruit that your staying has generated.

I rebel not and stay close to you
because our hunger
like a death drags us on high
above our three-room apartment
beyond the roller shutters
which, like males do, in your defence,
I lower for the night.

But sometimes I abandon you and wait for dawn
when a skylark actually does sing
in the garden, and makes peace,
and we are no longer two poles attracting one another
but only this peace
and this sky finally clear
lost beyond summer windows.

Translation: 2004, Gabriele Poole