The reflection of a wet finger that slipped over the faded oil-cloth
like a watery speck of potato settled on the saucer,
rolled in a meandering stream, slow and slender.
This happened in never-never. It was completely before you …
To inhale the steam from the hot, yellow potatoes …
And having screwed up one’s eyes to smile into the colored darkness
hiding in grandma’s round apron, veins throbbing at the brow.
This happened in never-never. It was completely before you …
And to take the towel worn to weak gauze:
Grandpa really could not have wiped his face with it—
he must have spread it on the dew.
To feel Grandpa’s soft: Haisl maine.
This happened in never-never. It was completely before you …
Translated by Richard McKane