I plunged my two hands
into the fish-tank of days
and the water slipped away from me
as though it were an animal,
like wine if I water it,
like the tongue of a lover,
like the knot nobody tightens,
and the words of that psalm,
like the name that escapes me,
like the games in the flat upstairs,
like a memory as you catch hold of it.
Into the fish-tank of days
I plunged two empty hands
and brought out two wet hands.

Translated by Anna Crowe