Seven-Year-Old models Poem by Michal Habaj

I saw seven-year-old models: exchanging
books instead of napkins: counting calories
in dumplings with pudding in school cafeterias: spelling
their names from fashion mag covers: the best
for our little girls: drugs catwalks discos:
drugs catwalks discos: handbag the best attaché case:
amphetamine the best vitamin: seven-year-old models
circle in the heaven of dreamt-up pleasures: in a pink Chevy
of passionate insanity: cheerily mature maturely serious:
their smiles and hairdos: we know from TV: their lips
and hair: we know from discos: drugs catwalks discos:
drugs catwalks discos: I saw seven-year-old
models: searching in vain in the dark drawers of their depths:
for skipping ropes and lollipops: in dark passages
of neon-lit cities: desperately learning
to hop on one leg.

Translation: Pavol Lukáč