How will I drag my feet to her now?
In which land will I see her
and on which street of what city
should I ask about her?
– and if I find her house
(Let’s suppose I do)
will I ring the bell?
How should I answer?
And how will I stare at her face
as I touch the light wine
seeping between her fingers
How should I say hello . . .
and how will I take the pain of all these years?
Once –
twenty years ago –
in an air-conditioned train
I kissed her all night through  . . .
 
8 September 1994
 Translated by the poet