Translation of Light / Ruhama Veltfort

About the Author
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POEMS
Opening
Sandscape
Shrapnel
Lost Child
Brooklyn, 1963
La Sirena
Zhikr
Susan, Number Four

Early Bird Sutra
Why the Boddhisattva Came
   to Battery Street: 7:55 AM

The Lightning-Struck Tower
The Well
Why Monks Are Fat
Retreat
Meada in Two Worlds

Looking at the Vault
   of Heaven

Translations from the Spanish:
Song of the Lovers
Dark Night: Climbing
   Mount Carmel

Flame

 

 

Lost Child

Her face is tear-streaked
This small girl
With the cardboard suitcase in her hand.
She stands
On my doorstep
Asking to come in.
It’s been a long time!
I hug her close.
Come.
I will make hot chocolate for you
With a marshmallow on top.
I’ll brush your hair tomorrow, it can wait.
I’ll be patient and gentle
Taking the tangles out.

What’s in your suitcase?
Dreams and secrets. A doll.
A photo of the black cat with the white chin and paws.
A book about a lost dog.
A brown plaid school dress, short-sleeved.
A bottle of perfume made from a kit.

Chocolate drunk and tears dried,
You tell me, gravely, that you will write a book.
I smile, and brush your tangled hair back
From your face.
Your very presence here
A grace.

   © Ruhama Veltfort, 2010  

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