Translated from Polish by David Malcolm
To get there
The workers laying the sidewalk beat rhythmically
with rubber hammers. The sand the whole length
is levelled and packed under stones;
last chance to leave some mark.
In the bag some necessary items you asked me for.
I hurry to get there at visiting time.
Once I thought a whisper mends every hole,
weaves a nest. Today between us runs a line of time.
Your bones are soft like morning mist –
they dissolve before our eyes.