From Bergen they write: we'll be back before the holidays,
we miss you,
from the Côte d'Azur: it's hard to love by proxy
but still
why this silence?
We get up at dawn
as our parents did
coffee and unintelligible conversations
have their advantages.
Thinking of you
we contemplate the mosaic of sun and sea
till dusk when the moon traces a road
for the last fishermen
history speaks to us as much as nature does
in Rome it's hotter than at home.
Tirelessly, distance plays
its melancholy minuet.

Translation: 2009, Marilyn Hacker