In the Old Town house where
my grandmother lived between
the wars and my father was born –
under the loft in which they starved,
a trendy restaurant has set up shop.
I attend the opening, standing with
pretentiously prepared food in my mouth
and a strange feeling of guilt in my belly.
for only the ceiling separates this space
from the one in which she left her note.
Lifting a glass with a banded hand,
I celebrate life
for both of us.
Translation by Rimas Uzgiris