#papusza

Long gone are the times

Long gone are the times When Gypsies wandered around, But I still see them. They are like running water Always running away. You can only guess What she would like to say. Poor water has no speech With which she could talk or sing, Only sometimes she whispers A silver splash like a heartbeat. A heartbeat of speaking water. Only a horse on a meadow Not far the stables Hears her and understands. Water looks not at the horse, Always running away. No eyes could ever pin down Water that always wanders

Once, at home, the moon stood in the window, didn’t let me sleep. Someone looked inside. I asked— who is there? —Open the door, my dark Gypsy. I saw a beautiful young Jewish girl, shivering from cold, asking for food. You poor thing, my little one. I gave her bread, whatever I had, a shirt. We both forgot that not far away were the police. But they didn’t come that night.