TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

Terribly in Love

seated on the throne — on the raft of the bed, thrusting his hands through sleeves prepared for them, feet — into Wigwam childrens socks, cautiously but with speed to match yours — like the navigator guiding a submarine into port — helps pass through the strait of the sweater’s tight weave. The tenderness earns no response: he has no affinity with the epoch of sentimentalism and just takes advantage — even the youngest intuits his innate power, and like a demon his glinting-eyed inventiveness, intent on disturbing the progress of your ceremony, is endless — beware! Now his fingers burrow like badgers into your ears, now he sniffs and stirs, no more able to stay still than a racehorse in the gate, but in a second he will make you his horse when you bow to tie his shoes — suddenly he is riding on your neck — look! The sleeping thrush’s tenderness

Translated by H. L. Hix and the author

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