The Vineyard Poem by Dritëro Agolli
The Vineyard
The rows of crates are lined up in the vineyard,
Crates where raki and exquisite wines lie sleeping,
Rows like lines of verse,
Sometimes scanned, sometimes free.
No one asks the grape-pickers
Why the lines are long or short.
It's enough if they produce
A heavy wine or a twenty-percent raki.
Friday, May 16, 2014
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie
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4/19/2024 8:17:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
