Dear B & J,

These days I have been thinking about you two so much. I remember the pain the first time we lost a pregnancy.
S. says he would like to write too, but he wants to give you some space.

I decided to write anyway, because today, ‘by coincidence’, I found one of my old blog posts with a poem. It is a silent memory for our loss, and I am sharing it with you today, translated into English. I don’t think I ever told anyone why I posted it originally.

So many things must be happening inside you now, both in a physical way, and in your mind and heart.
I know you will be whole again, piece by piece. Even the hopes and dreams will come back, eventually. Hold each other as tenderly as you can, even if you may have separate ways of coping with your grief, which may sometimes be difficult to deal with. And take your time.

Anyway.

The Hungarian original is from János Lackfi, a prolific and wonderful poet, who writes a lot for children too. He is a father of five, and I have no idea what he meant when he wrote this poem, but it spoke to me at that time, when I discovered it.

Of course the original is wonderful, and it rhymes, so this is just a rough translation.

Peace and blessings to you.

With love,

R.

---

Unfinished apple

No doubt about it, I am lost:
this body is not my body,

this blood is not my blood,
my own is way ahead of me.

I took a bite from an apple,
it was left unfinished.

I got entangled in a dream,
it still holds my captive body.

Is this a dream yet, or still a dream?
I keep rambling at the offside line.

Befejezetlen alma

Semmi kétség, eltévedtem:
ez a test nem az én testem,

ez a vér nem az én vérem,
magamét utol nem érem.

Egy almába belekezdtem,
ott maradt befejezetlen.

Egy álomba gabalyodtam,
fogoly testem most is ott van.

Ez még álom vagy már álom?
Tébolygok a leshatáron.

(Lackfi János: Hőveszteség, 2005)