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The
Brownstone Journal >>
Issues >> Vol.
XII Spring 2005
And
cruel
Translated by Agnes Gyorfi
My mother
died, my father and twin brother as well,
my wife's
little sister, her aunt and her aunt's husband.
Many have
perished and suddenly
and in our
dreams, when we are sated by dinner,
we hear that
underneath their gravestones
nails still
grow in blasts and hairs in whispers.
We live
otherwise unsoiled and with easy smiles:
my wife
strolls through our rooms with her skirt's thin rustle
and with
glossy eyes reorganizes our belongings.
She already
knows that dogs of the rich bite
and that
whoever dies is dug into scratched dirt forever.
Our lives are
thus without fear, and simple,
like paper,
or the milk here on our table
and also
cruel,
like beside
them the slowly-glancing knife.
Agnes Gyorfi (CAS 06) is pursuing a triple major
program for degrees in English, International Relations, and
History.TBJ
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