Through my aunt's house the ants' road passes,
that ancient road mentioned in the Oriental chronicles.
The ants climb from the neighbor's garden along a cranny in the wall.
In the bathroom they waltz on the white and blue tiles.
They traverse the laundry box, the wall, and once in the dining room
march clockwise, for three turns
on the round mirror's gilt frame.
Then they disappear.
Maybe they take an escape route.
Or maybe the road simply ends there.
Or has the delta of the Oriental chronicles become
my aunt's mirror?

Translation: Alexandra Fenoghen / John Irons