I’m coming, I’ve filled my bag
with treasured bric-a-brac:
medals, cards,
tortoise-shell comb, photos,
I’m taking this silver belt too,
let them roof the house,
they were digging foundations as I was leaving.
I’m coming, there’s no anger or sadness,
my hair doesn’t wave in the clouds
– I don’t want any food!
I tell my mother
and she agrees with me.
I’m coming, one person gives me
an embroidered napkin,
another a gold coin,
shells, earphones left in pockets,
someone gives me a torn flag
with small bells, ribbons of lace,
I have to find their owners,
they aren’t yours
or mine.
Silver forks and knives,
Indian cashmere, tears, ambrosia
(such good quality found here at this time)
please take it and help yourself to the money
(I don’t want it!)
– I can’t carry wine,
they won’t allow me to take liquids.
I’m coming, the children are seeing me off
from their dreams
they wave their wings
ask me to pass on their best regards
to birds who are probably the same age as they are.
And here the border is appearing.
I shove my hands in my pockets,
are my documents in order?
Will they definitely let me through?
Do I have everything I need?
A strict cherub looks at my face, glares,
am I really the one in the drawing in front of him?
– What do you have in your pocket?
It’s obvious I couldn’t
get hold of fridge magnets.
That’s why I filled my pockets with stones
found in boggy ground,
it wasn’t so difficult to find them,
rivers are full of them,
I will give them one by one
if anyone asks for news –
which of their relatives I have seen,
who I couldn’t see,
who – not.
– What am I bringing for you?
The cherub strictly warned me
that I wasn’t allowed to take in sharp objects…
in a fraction of a second I took it from my jacket
hid it in my voice and now I bring it to you as a present.
A strict border guard examined me in surprise:
I have seen many going up
but none coming down.
If I hadn’t seen my mother ten minutes earlier
I would have said the same
and written the opposite.
