Now, as the gherkins marinate, I have a while
to myself. What was supposed to terminate
germinated long ago, it has buried itself. It could have been better,
it’s just as you might have guessed. Naturally.
Expectations fail to meet an ovation. While standing
at most you can kneel down in spirit.
Today I addressed my little girl. She’s big, she
understands more than she knows. I put drops in her
eyes (she suffers from exudates, it’s chronic
conjunctivitis), and sat her on my knees. She likes it,
though she simply can’t sit still, there’s too much going on:
“Once you learn to speak, my baby,
you’ll see there’s nothing to talk about. And once
you learn to listen, child, listen,
sometimes it hurts, especially with understanding.”
It was going to rain, it didn’t. Pectin sticks to
the windows. It might have been worse. It may be.
Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones (with thanks to Karolina Iwaszkiewicz)