trwoga

idąc sobie lekko słoneczną stroną ulicy, nie zapominam –
nigdy nie zapominam, skąd przyszłam. rzucam cień tak wielki,
tak ciężki i lepki, że aż czasem zdaje mi się, jakbym brodziła w gęstej smole.
wyskakuję wtedy wyżej, radośniej, rozpaczliwiej. żeby tylko nie czuć ciężaru
kładącego się chłodnym wilgotnym jęzorem na moich plecach.

if death…
if death comes and asks for me
do me a favor and tell it to come back tomorrow
because my debts haven’t been canceled
nor have I finished a poem
nor have I arranged my clothes for the trip
nor have I delivered a package
nor have I locked my drawers

nor have I told my friends what I have to tell them
nor have I felt the scent of an unborn rose
nor have I dug up my roots
nor have I written an overdue letter
because I haven’t even washed my hands
nor have I met a son
nor have I walked through unknown countries
nor do I know the sea’s seven sails

if death should come
tell it please that I’m aware
that it has to wait
because haven’t kissed my girlfriend goodbye
because I haven’t shaken hands with my family
nor have I blew the dust off my books
nor have I whistled my favorite song
nor have I reconciled with my enemies
tell it I haven’t tried suicide,
nor have I seen my people free

tell it, if you want, to come back tomorrow
because it’s not that I’m afraid, but I haven’t even…
tell it, if you want, to come back tomorrow
because it’s not that I’m afraid, but I haven’t even…
tell it, if you want, to come back tomorrow
because it’s not that I’m afraid, but I haven’t even…
tell it, if you want, to come back tomorrow
because it’s not that I’m afraid, but I haven’t even…
started to walk my path.