The calendar once more dawned Sunday.

Seven days
One after the other
Bound together
All the same
Like the jet-black beads
Of seminary rosaries.

One, four, fifty-two

Six whole days for one
Six days waiting
Six days thinking
For one day
For just one day
For just one hour
Afternoon and sun.

Identical
Hours
Without awareness
Trying to shine
On a background of pages
The colour of mourning.

A day of dubious joy
Perhaps just one hour
A few moments.
In the evening the waiting begins again
Again another week, four, fifty-two
………………………………
Today its been raining since morning
A fine yellow sleet.

Translated by Philip Ramp