Laza Kostić

“ And when thou art perceived from the midst of paradise
By that ancient tree,
Of every apple the forebear,
Earliest saint and earliest sinner,
Its wound was opened
Beneath that single dissevered offshoot,
And it quivered.
Apples are shaken over thee
And in every dimple
Singly is scattered
The forbidden fruit.
In every valley of thine singly is scattered
A cloister glistening.
Unto thy lips the fruits are clinging;
Is haply the fruit forbidden eke to thee? ”