I threw my arms about those shoulders

M.B.

       I threw my arms about those shoulders, glancing

       at what emerged behind that back,

       and saw a chair pushed slightly forward,

       merging now with the lighted wall.

       The lamp glared too bright to show

       the shabby furniture to some advantage,

       and that is why sofa of brown leather

       shone a sort of yellow in a corner.

       The table looked bare, the parquet glossy,

       the stove quite dark, and in a dusty frame

       a landscape did not stir. Only the sideboard

       seemed to me to have some animation.

       But a moth flitted round the room,

       causing my arrested glance to shift;

       and if at any time a ghost had lived here,

       he now was gone, abandoning this house.

1983, translated by the author.