Canvas of memories

(my mama-sewn childhood)


Your smile's on my mouth, it shines in my eyes,

before the needle, gold threads run apart.

Colourful buttons, an army of joy,

roll everywhere all around on the floor.

Into the corner (the place of a sprite),

afternoon sun puts a bouquet of light.

On the black back of the humming cookstove,

memories slumber and tenderly glow.

They melt silently, the old kitchen fades,

time dances his dance, the fabric decays.

Small cotton fluffs float, fly down on my hand,

I mend the canvas as long as I can.

My beautiful mama

Emlékek szövete

(Mama varrta gyerekkorom)

Mosolyod a számon, szememben a fény,
Aranyszálak futnak szét a tű hegyén.
Gurulnak a gombok, tarka hadsereg,
Duruzsoló sparhelt hátán szendereg,
Olvad a sok emlék, megfakul a kép;
Lebomlik a szövet, kis pamutpihék
Némán lebegnek, tenyeremre szállnak...
Ameddig tudom, foltozom a vásznat.

♥ My grandmother and I. I called her "mama". ♥



dVerse