there are gardens that have escaped someone's
watchful eye and in them the sky is as clear
and as cool as a sea breeze in the south can be
you sit at a table and talk to the neighbours, you drink

their wine, and later the mist comes to linger in the pines
and in the foliage where children used to play
and you could hear their voices, now a blackbird
sounds the alarm, the family needs rescuing but we

can't help, the evening sun is shining on the sun room,
the reeds are swaying in the warm, restless wind
softly an engine starts up in the distance, it's time for the
ice-cream van to come, but the children aren't here now

Translation: Judith Wilkinson