Poetry by: Kenneth Koch
Translated by: Fadil Bajraj
Before, to some extent, I lived near you. When
I needed one of you, you were already a ghost,
You would come out meanly, directly
and with the intention of hurting me.
Ah, what a great pleasure
For a moment that gives!
You are distinguished among some connoisseurs –
Breathe quickly that they are enthusiastically aware.
You are dangerous! Your victim could be hurt.
Severe and/or, driven by revenge, to counterattack
With physical force. As shocking to watch as a car accident
Sometimes the time and consequences are all yours! When you come from me
I'm afraid, as if I had broken some promise.
For the pleasure of your uncivilized passion. As, sometimes again,
To regain the territory of friendship, even of courtesy?
(You have a commendable quality.
That you are absolute and can clean the place up
From the accumulated waste, although rarely, if ever,
Are you indispensable?)
Some children are skilled with you, even French courtiers.
Apparently they were. The gods and the very powerful don't need you.
"Our Savior was never known for smiling," wrote Baudelaire.
He didn't even use you.
