The mauve nun

Lilacs, lilacs, lilacs.
Sitting in the window,
Decolleté revealed,
Is the Mauve Nun.
In the afternoon from behind the windowpane she dreams of glory
Until the stars come out,
She goes out
Into the limelight of her shabby dream,
But never gets beyond
The corner,
There she stands,
Breathless
Raising her arms
To the age-old sky.
Lilacs, lilacs, lilacs,
Untied they burgeon
In delirium,
A jumble
Of fragrance, stems, petals
Which release her energy
That she may die.

[Murgesha violë, from the volume Ndodhi në shpirt, Elbasan: Onufri 1995, p. 63,
translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]