Accidents happen in the Spring.
Babies are born from left-over
Autumn bonfires,
Never properly extinguished.
The sun should shine for an extra hour
So I can finish "The Burial of the Dead."
Small dogs can escape out doors
Opened for a breath of fresh Spring air.
If there had been a screen on the door...
If it had been a cat...
If it had been raining...
If the sun had set sooner...
If the stranger had been kinder...
Would April accidents happen?
Instead, a sad woman cries,
'Ah, nao. Agrander a Deus.
Nao por favor. Mitzi.'
We can't plan for mistakes.
We call them accidents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem