Lost in Thought
(Mendueshëm)

Mist and naked plum trees and a madrigal of rain from the rooftop.

There, where the old women tell children tales and croon ballads with magic numbers, stretching to their mouths spoonfuls of bogeymen and sweets: Come on, or the Iron-Toothed One will get you! The jackals once loped through the snow and surrounded the village! An angry ogre had seized the spring.

Three mountains, seven heads, nine cradles...

And the obedient children ate, slowly munching and staring, obsessed, at the glimmer beyond the window.