There is a card player seated
on the edge of my bed
Until I decide to open the window
With the cold night air first his hat disappears,
part of his coat, his striped shirt, his shoes...
In this state of undress he chooses to depart
angrily down the staircase
Below I can hear the latchkey being turned
in the old lock of the building
The dog barks momentarily, a sound like a car
pulling up and the door closes with a bang
At that moment I remember having seen the card
player on previous occasion
And pausing only to adjust my dressing gown
I rush down the stairs
The street door is slightly ajar and opposite
a car waits in the darkness
Pressing my face to the window
I see myself in the back seat of the taxi
as it sets off on its unknown journey.
Translated by Philip West
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