Just you and I. A secret meeting
in the town’s nicest cafe; delicious music,
my perfume and a tight black dress with lace
without ending.
Your eyes burn through me. I say something,
but you do not hear and suddenly,
urgently grip my hands in yours:
I want you, in altered voice you say,
and wait for my answer. Yes, your atelier
is just a step away… but I see suddenly
your pale wife at the other end of town –
just now she’s doing the weekend shopping
and I know too well
that the most romantic flowers grow
where the grey ash of the everyday does not settle,
of the common, practical-banal life.
English Translation: John Minahane