Volume 47, No. 4 - Winter 2001
Editor of this issue: M. Gražina Slavėnas
ISSN 0024-5089
Copyright © 2001 LITUANUS Foundation, Inc.


Translated by Antanas Danielius

I woke up—unaware how long I slept
I woke up. The house was empty.
My mother was out. My father was out.
The door was left open.
Fog in the window,
Fog in the room,
Fog on my table.

I went out to the garden,
Opened the gate.
And the moment I opened the gate,
The house disappeared, as if sunk into the ground.
Fog all around. I am in an island.
Fog is drifting with me like sails.
The island under my feet is flying. I cannot run away.
I found a tree—it was lonely.
A wet bird was sleeping in a wet nest
It was lonely.
I found a house
It was lonely.
A man was sleeping with his woman—
They were lonely.

I came back. My home was not my home anymore.
I woke up. There was somebody inside.
Father, but not mine. Mother—not mine, either.
The door was open.
Fog in the window,
Fog in the room,
Fog on my table
Fog, white like the smoke of explosions.
And wet like pain and salty like a wound.
I saw a picture of sunrise in the fog— 
Through a forest of dead hands, 
Red sea was rising form the red sea. 
I closed the door. The clock stopped. 
Sleep is sweetest during the very sunrise.

I woke up—unaware, how long 1 slept
Somebody's steps behind the wall, fire roaring in the stove
The clock, striking behind the wall.
I woke up. I opened the door and saw my face—
Distant and unfamiliar—
In the morning mirror.
After long and deep sleep.
Roofs are warm, a train approaches.
A train approaches through the white fog
And cuts the landscape in two.
The room in two,
My table in two.