After this life here, we're to be awakened one day
by the terrible screams of trumpets and bugles?
Forgive me, Lord, but I trust
that the beginning and the resurrection of us, the dead,
will be announced by the crowing of a rooster . . .
We'll lie on for a little longer . . .
The first to rise
will be mother . . . We'll hear her
quietly making the fire,
quietly putting the kettle on,
and cozily taking the coffee grinder out of the cupboard.
We'll be at home again.
tr. C. G. Hanzlicek and Dana Hábová
in Mirroring: Selected Poems of Vladimir Holan
[Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 1984]
No comments:
Post a Comment