Poem for Saint Valentine

Not a word about the wilting
no humility for the wrinkles

in the face

just to be a guest at this meal,
festively set the table,
the scent of hunger
bathed in candlelight.
the scent of hunger
in one another.

ZDENKA BECKER, Czech Republic (1951)
Translation Germain Droogenbroodt –Stanley Barkan

From: “Injured like beauty in the eye”
Modern poetry from Austria, POINT Editions