Translated by Brian Holton
will it only be tasty after a year has gone by?
will it only turn golden as our days pass us by?
I never knew what it was
that granny stored away
those rustling, many-layered
and many-leafed secrets
I loved the fresh green of youth
I loved the skinís bloom
that vanishes with a touch
a fresh life or a dried one
or a life of who knows what
I never liked the wrinkles on grannyís face
never liked grannyís black clothes
she was always bringing stuff out
was that our gathered-up and pleated past?
was there really once a healthy body inside the black and blue one?
granny made me try your soup to see if the gold of our days was in it
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