Trinity Journal of Literary Translation
Online: The Widows
The first of the brothers died
down he went into the ground
black and stiff they lowered him down the wood black, the suit white murmur breath.
The widows wed their empty beds in mourning drawers
there’s no tears of joy or bouquet gift no spinster’s promise.
Later alone the flowers fade
red flowers, white, paper leaves that fade endlessly to wreathes end.
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85
trans. Keith Payne
