A melancholy of mine own

It is a melancholy of my own
woven out of my own world
out of all that did not happen
all that was done
out of paths through woods and across fields
out of hanging branches of hazel
that hit the face
out of the tangle of graveyard blackberries
out of the whiteness of snows
out of heavy birds

A melancholy of my own like the face
impossible to tear off

Anna Kamieńska

(translated by Grazyna Drabik and David Curzon)