Knock me down. Your moustache is still growing,
and yet I have one or two memories
that make me perfectly aware of the difference
between the natural warmth of the body
and the warmth of love.
Though I was only five,
and the girl sixteen.
What’s most wonderful is that two kinds of warmth
may know of each other, - in today’s words
there may be billions of messages
between two bodies
without ever meeting.
Micsicsák was wearing a convict’s uniform,
I was in a little velvet suit with a lily-white collar
He died, I’m dying.