Holidays at Grandma’s

Published in / Opublikowane w: Modern Poetry in Translation

Date of publication / Data publikacji: Spring 2019

Holidays at Grandma’s

A tall willow tree

rocked in the wind.

You could touch its catkins

from the swing. Just needed to get it going hard enough.

Further down there was a walnut tree.

We built an entire world on it.

Grandma used to dry its fruits

in a cardboard suitcase in the attic. We scrumped them.

A sour cherry tree in the middle of the yard,

fruits the colour of dark blood.

They stained fingers, tongues and souls.

In the corner a root cellar

for storing potatoes.

Another one at the side of the house,

dankness smelling of apples

spread in single layers on the shelves.

A row of acacia trees led to the gate.

We climbed it

to gape at the world going by

from our watchtower.

All gone now.

Too true, the curse of the dark well 

between the acacia trees and pigsty.

Translated by Maria Jastrzębska and Anna Blasiak

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