You probably thought you’d been abandoned,
Like something rejected,
That no longer pleases…
You stayed in your dark corner.
The spider, out of pity,
Had woven a bed for you,
For resting,
And for dreaming.
With joy I found you again,
You little thing!
I’m happy to caress you
With my sluggish fingers,
You who remained so prudent
In your dark corner
For a whole week…
October 1967.
Translated by Lenora Timm
