2053. HOW I GARBLED THIS TRANSLATION

HOW I GARBLED THIS

TRANSLATION (2010)

(from Ernst Jule, 1931)

Darkling through night in the deep, dense woods,

catching no shadows in the blackness, of course I

felt alone. The woman beside me, Althea, poised

herself strongly aside a tree. She lit, with one

vague, unlined hand, the cigarette, for me, with

a match - the old-fashioned kind - that she

lit on the tree. A simple stroke, the strike along

the roughened bark. I think, because I didn't

see much in the dark until after the flame had

ignited, its simple red roar momentarily lighting

both our faces. There was a trace of a smile on

her lips. I understood all that and, yes, surely,

felt Belgium to be just around the bend in the

road. I never understood travel very well,

and never borders either - now, traveling

by foot like this through the woods, we were

attempting, instead, to sneak across something

unseen. Life has its dark and its matter too.

I hunkered down in my thick coat, as we

walked amidst a silence enough for two.