I’ve lived through as much as three first graders,
an equal baggage of experiences, an equal measure
of values, multiplied by three and a far more
cynical look at the very same playthings.
I’d like nothing to have changed,
so that I could meet this woman again,
just like in the movie, and squeeze her by the hand
firmly during the closing titles.
So that I could have textbook model
friends and non-existent enemies.
But most of all I’d like to live merely in order
to die in an armchair, quietly at night before
the TV set, holding my dead wife’s hand,
with the cigarette still smouldering.
© translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones