I miss you to the touch
Mouth cheeks hair
The bun the belly   the small brown comb
Bread and milk over the window sill
The mild mornings the little window above
The kitchenette
In these first days of scorching weather
                   By now this is spring
I go back there and when distance shortens
The temporal corridor is just a corridor

A corridor
                   And I feel your hand
                   Warming my hair


Translated by Dewi Chandiramani