From a Childhood
The darkening was like treasures in the room
in which the boy, so deeply hidden, sat.
And when as in a dream his mother entered,
a glass shook on the silent shelf.
She felt how the room was giving her away,
and kissed her boy: So, you’re here?…
Then both gazed fearfully toward the piano,
for many an evening she would play a song
in which the child got strangely, deeply caught.
He sat stock-still. His wide gaze hung
on her hand, which, weighed down by the ring,
as if it were walking in deep snow,
wandered across the white keys.
(Translated by Edward Snow)