Tóth Krisztina költő, író, műfordító

Fotó: Bulla Bea     

File

 

“Hey, did it hurt? Hey, did you hear?”

I didn’t. Lying back upon the couch, I gazed at

the colored circles gleaming with the back-light:

like a church window, yellow, blue and red

stained glass: something I’d never seen in an apartment.

We had to rush – by five his mom was coming.

He hopped behind me, pants around his ankles.

I squatted in the bath; he stood at the tap.

Yeah, I love it too. The morning’s when it’s nicest.

 

I was just sixteen, sixteen more years elapsed,

Then, on bus seven one day, there he was.

“The stained glass thing between the dining room and

the sitting room, you know? I guess you guys kept that up?”

“Be serious. That was just something Dad made.

He brought some colored files home from the office

and put them in between the double windows …

… I get off here and take the metro. Cheers!”

 

Why do all wonders have to be exploded?

Santa Claus. Storks. And now comes this.

 

Welcome , today is vasárnap, 2019-05-19