I’M COLD


I must put a sweater on, I’m cold,
the sweater my father has worn, my brother has worn,
the sweater my mother has worn, but which smells of me,
the brown, no the beige sweater,
the one without buttons and man-made materials.
I must put a sweater on. On my upper body, my cold body,
the sweater I have forgotten, the one that now breathes in the city’s
microbes, imperceptibly breathes of me,
my whole person, what a figure, a human, her with
the sweater, with warmth under the sweater,
under the skin, under the muscles, the bones, the anaemia
Now, then, I’m putting your white sweater on.

(Translated from Danish by proffessor John Irons,
University of Southern Denmark)