tr. by Karen Van Dyck
She has nothing to say.
She simply touches herself
and watches herself
and wants
*
While whole phrases pass by and she accepts them
and she constantly faces great danger
still the body she remembered
but there was something she had never seen.
*
Fine; even if sad
since until now it has never ceased being
leaning over her body
and breathing with voices.
Then she is alone;
she trusts no one when she says
I caress my body
I caress my awkward body.
Not that it matters;
she hardly minds
because she dreamt herself lying down
a golden deer in the valley.
__________________________________
Excerpted from Hers by Maria Laina, translated by Karen Van Dyck and published by World Poetry Books.