On sad days you don't mention birds.
You ring up friends and they're out
and then on the street
you ask for a light as if asking
for a brand new heart.

On sad days it's winter
and you wander off in the cold, cigarette in hand,
burning away the wind and you say
- good morning!
to the passers-by
after they've passed by
and you failed to notice.

On sad days you talk to yourself
and there's always a bird sitting
at the top of things
instead of landing on your heart
and it doesn't speak to you
Translated by Ana Hudson, 2011