Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

XI. Shards

The Body and Soul Universe of Poetry is like my fallen childhood. In my head

my good teacher’s warning rings: “Wherever you go, my boy, water turns to fire as you pass.”

Since I was baking carrots with another at the bottom of the haystack; burned both clothes and haystack – there goes my pocket-money – my buddy got it (he slaps his pocket proudly); at night I stole money from his pajamas, replaced with spices. Thus I tottered around the morning, and how he woke – spying his long face… I had to kneel in the corner all day on corn…

I was a child, and many problems gathered… I’m young – my life has been but fancy…

(for János Bogdán)

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