Here is a room
With thanks to J. Kates’ translation of Nikolai Berkov
Here is my room, at least
it’s half my room. Which half?
Are the carpet, the furniture,
the air evenly divided?
Here is my room, on the far wall
a drawing of us playing Scrabble
fixed there motionless
as long as the picture survives.
Here is my room, on two walls
water-colours of peonies,
plum blossom, chrysanths
you brought from China
but maybe it’s a more matter
of your radio on my table
your books in my bookcase
my bum on your sofa.
Here is a room that’s become ours
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