That time as a young girl
(in the 1930s) taking your
younger sisters to the park
(in Dulwich) , and the man
at the old water fountain
exposed himself, and a boy
chased him with a shout
and rout, and you having
no brothers, didn't know
what it was the man was
showing, you not knowing
until your mother later
told you and you never
forgot. And that time in
the sanatorium in the War,
when the jam factory got
bombed, and girls were
rushed in covered in boiling
sugar, screaming with pain,
and even some nurses cried,
you later said, not able even
years after to get from your head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem