Anna Santoliquido
I
who knows what I shall be like
in a hundred years’ time
whether my cheeks be
moss or soil
II
unaware of my demise
light will bear me off
my lips uttering not moans
but verse
III
I want the children beside me
the mule in the stable
chicks beneath my bed
violets in the beaker
IV
I will return
inthe desires ofmothers
in the passion of lovers
in the morning clouds
(Translated by Janet Mary Wing)
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