The One That

Az, aki

You sell newspapers: I’m your latest story.
You are a waitress: I’m the wine you carry.
I am the running road you drive your car on,
the beach on which you lie when on vacation.

I'm there when you’re at home, musing on nothing.
I am the pavement where you put out junk, once monthly.
I am that street corner, which each day finds you turning,
the tram station to which, with bag on back, you hurry.

When you hold your head high, and when you sink it,
when your eyes flash at me, when they stare down,
when you shout it out, when you keep it secret,
it's just the deviations of an indivisible one.
You are the one that I am, in each minute,
not alienated from itself right now.

Translated by David Hill



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