The shadow that spoke was our mother’s
not my brother’s
only she can
tuck me in
no matter how many other shadows,
her arms creak
in every joint
rock my imaginary body –
for a long time I’ve not looked
as I once used to –
she refuses to recognized this
but croons hush-a-bye!
a hundred times a day.
translated by
Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem