She ran into death,
or it surprised her
like debt sometimes do
but a car skidding in sieving rain
on a wet slippery road
made the killing,
the accident possible,
probable and yet
who can forgive the driver?
He could not forgive himself either
after killing a beautiful women
in running trunks, dripping wet,
but still very beautiful
and no one would have been able to say
that a woman like that
was a mother of three.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem