You're in pyjamas, wearing your winter coat,
you stand in an unfamiliar bathroom
that's not just strange it's like a catacomb.
The quirks of some dream have brought you here.
You suspect you had a past: something once had
A half- or third-share in the figure before you.
Some part was shared in any case. Love, of course.
Now that you're here, why not wash? Stubborn flesh
yearns for its natural home but is beaten back.
Water is good for you. It's true, you did not
imagine the entry into adulthood like this.
Nor do you accept it as conclusive
— oh no, not now, never as conclusive!
But this is not the place for bearing grudges.
Get a towel, wipe yourself, wait for it to be over.
Someone will eventually discover something:
observant rats may seize on your dusty flesh
or you may at last locate that hidden exit.

Translation: George Szirtes