I.
Everything was held together by
Duct tape, rusty nails and good luck.
It was only forty acres and we rented it all out
But for the five
Where the old house sat.
The barn and milkhouse
Had no water
The granary that we used as a
Garage smelled of mold and pee and
Droppings of passing tom cats who
Would visit on there way to God knows where.
In the early weeks of April
There would be kittens in the mow
Amongst the moldy hay and pigeon droppings.
They would only see the world for an instant, those
Kittens, for soon as their eyes were open distemper
would paste them shut
After a few weeks
They were all gone
Either falling from the mow
Or from the distemper.
We would bury them in a small cemetery out back
And said prayers over them that had no hope of answer.
The same prayers that we said for ourselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really love this. 'The same prayers that we said for ourselves'. The seeming randomness of life could eat us alive, if we didn't find some humor and irony in it. Masterful writing.