When I was a teenager
my younger brother
used to wait
until I was in the bathroom
to say cheeky things to me
and to look for trouble
from the outside
beyond the frosted glass.
I’ll beat you up
I used to declare
and he would laugh
and say something more
as if a magical barrier
had been drawn
between the two of us
and it went on
till one day
that I saw his outline
against the glass.
He said what he thought
and I didn’t let him pass
and pieces of frosted glass
shattered and
flew away
while I knocked him
through the window
against the head
and that was the last of it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem