After a long journey

I sit down on the balcony to watch the night.

My mother told me it was senseless to be depressed.
“Move, do something!” she shouted at me.

But I was never very gifted at being happy.

My mother and I were different,

and we never managed to understand each other.

However, there is something I would like to tell:

Sometimes, when I miss her very much,

I open the wardrobe where her clothes are,

and as if arriving at a place

after a long journey,

I go inside.

It seems absurd: But in the dark and with that smell,
I feel sure that nothing separates us.

Fabián Casas, Argentina, 1965

Translation Germain Droogenbroodt – Stanley Barkan