You looked at me
and a far away window opened and closed.
you stroked me
and I got wet
from the rain beyond that window.
you are here beside me
and with your every movement
something moves in the distance
which makes something move in me.
I was born in the year of your exile.
In your eyes a woman was making dolls.
In the shape of all her dead she was making dolls
and was setting them
on the window sill in front of my eyes.
One had my hat on his head.
Another was wearing my shoes.
I was being created from her losses.
You were looking at me
and the rain was still raining
on your suitcases
and the shoes and the hats of the dead.
I kiss you
and we exchange
losses.
Translated by Lyn Coffin