Translated by Khaled Mattawa
An African summer at the beach,
a summer of Oran.
If my memory of greenery were to cloud up,
I would see the mountains of Aden
like a giant harbor, glittering.
The children swim,
and the Slavic women swim.
And you, in your woolen bernouse,
are you keeping warm in a winter
you made for yourself?
Originally published in Cider Press Review, Volume 1.
