tr. by Karen Van Dyck
She has nothing to say.
She simply touches herself
and watches herself
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.