Our things from the stolen satchel
must have been thrown, in disappointment,
in a pile at some quiet spot by the river:
the checked shirt,
the envelopes,
the red hairband.
They must be lying somewhere in the snow,
forever, unused.
Once in a while the envelopes stir.
The blue color weighs down the shirt.
When was the last time
we were so together?
From: https://www.bodyliterature.com/2022/09/07/petr-hruska-4/
Date: 2022 (original in Czech); 2022 (translation in English)
By: Petr Hruška (1964- )
Translated by: Jonathan Bolton (1968- )