Mijn vader/wist niet dat hij wanhopig was
My father
didn’t know that he was in despair,
it was his blind spot
my mother asked him: ‘why are you sighing like that?’
‘I am sighing out of happiness,’ he said,
‘but why do you look so sad then?’
‘I am thinking of something beautiful,’
my father never doubted
the truthfulness of his feelings
the sun went down
and he threw himself in front of a train,
cried that he was playing with my brothers
and it grew murky and miserable
around him
my father knew himself,
knew everything about himself,
but not that he was in despair.
Translated by Judith Wilkinson
Page(s) 39
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