Olga Bergholz
We pronounced

We pronounced
the simplest, poorest words
as if they had never been said.
We were saying
sun, light, grass
as people pronounce
life, love, strength.

Remembered how we cleared
that eternal, accursed glacier
from the city streets — and an old man
stamped his foot against the pavement,
shouting, «Asphalt, friends, asphault!»

As if he were a sailor long ago,
calling out «Land, land!»

Translated by Robert Chandler