At Home Poem by Ivan Malkovych

At Home



Again I'll visit for a day or two,
won't help with anything again,
nervous, distracted conversations
will just distress my parents.

What will I find next time
I come? Everyone there?
As I leave: father and mother in the window
like Hutsul icons on glass.

Translation: 2000, Bohdan Boychuk and Myrosia Stefaniuk

Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: parents
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