Coll d’Eres
El bosc m’aguaita.
Tot són fresses furtives
en jo endinsar-m’hi.
Camino com un lladre
que s’estimés la casa.
Translations of this Poem
Coll d’Eres
Translator: Anna Crowe
The wood watches me.
And it’s all furtive rustlings
as I crawl into it.
I creep along like a thief
who loves the house he is burgling.
