Four years and five months on I ran into
a girlfriend, whom I’d effectively managed
to avoid until then – she lives a long way off.
If it weren’t for the glasses that she’d never worn
before, I wouldn’t have recognized her.
Courtesy slickly bedded down between us and the sort of
questions you answer without a second thought.
She scanned me as a daytime student looks at the poorly
earning evening students and inquired
what’s the news from my, so they say, artistic soul.
Just before Chorzów Batory she declared:
writing poetry is so unmanly.
I’ll never think of a better punchline.
© translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones