The September Wind
The September wind repeats my brother Yukev's
last request:
Yashek, I'll dude at your place
in the empty shack;
just bring me, sometimes,
a little water,
a piece of bread,
and I'll survive.
But Yashek, our Polish neighbor, did not answer.
The yellow leaves are falling, falling from the trees –
my brother Yukev's last words.
All the empty shacks in the world
are now
wide open and wait –
wait for my dead brother Yukev
to come drink water
and eat bread.
Translated by Aaron Kramer
|