Magda Umer - Dawne zabawne

They returned to me in the morn
as if from the sky,
the lost jays
condemned to long oblivion -
our old
playful
kisses.

The ones from the river,
the ones from the meadow,
the ones from the forest,
the hurried ones, since one has no time,
the hot, breahtless ones
and those sleepy in the morning,
the lyric ones and pretty,
and pornographic,
these stolen from the wife
and those sweetened with lies,
the ones from the stairwell
and the lift,
the mint ones and of anise,
and those others from others
and at the end - a bit wet from tears,
after which there's no longer trace,
yet
there is.