How I Cover Up and Wrap Myself in Autumn

I recently encountered a piece of profound beauty and talent that truly deserves to be shared with the world. I’m thrilled to present a poignant and nostalgic masterpiece by the talented Marina Kuzmic Laszlo.

It is an honor to have Marina’s permission to feature this beautiful work on my page. Her writing exquisitely captures the essence of longing and solace, weaving a tapestry of emotions and peace that resonates deeply.

Marina is Croatian born Freelance proofreader, editor, translator and a talented poet. In her own words ''Proofreader of words. Translator of love and anger. Friend of cats. Cultivator of self-irony.''

KAKO SE POKRIVAM I UMATAM U JESENI

Bolesna sam: od jeseni, od nedostajanja i od

nošenja raznoraznih teških kutija.

Ovo zadnje mogla sam možda prevenirati

da sam se najprije malo razgibala.

Ostalo nikako. Jesen je vlažna, snena, podovi hladni,

ja sam ipak miljenica ljeta.

Zvuk kiše mojoj je kćeri velika ugoda, to je

autonomni senzorni meridijalni refleks,

ona opuštenije korača prema školi i danu

uz lupkanje kapljica po opni kišobrana.

Zbog nje mi je drago i neka uživa.

Ja se zavlačim pod obični bijeli pokrivač srednje debljine

kojem iz sentimentalnih razloga više ne navlačim šlifere

jer mi takav neodjeven najbolje predstavlja

dane koje sam provela gola i bez navlaka.

Pa se tu prebacujemo na nedostajanja. Kiša je

za takve stvari doista dušu dala.

Nedostaje mi taj jedan primarni jednostavni pokrivač

prebačen preko tebe dok mirno i čvrsto spavaš,

nedostaje mi i moja noga preko tvoje prebačena,

način na koji je hvataš da ti ne mogu izmaći,

isprepleteni prsti, ta vječna i nužna ruka u ruci.

Nedostaju mi prozori koje nisam otvarala, i oni koje jesam,

nedostaju mi čak i sumnje i strahovi koje sam osjećala

iako se u njih ne bih kao u ostalo rado vratila.

Nedostaju mi gledanja, primjećivanja, smijanja, pa onda

hrana, kava, hodanje između polica trgovina.

Uranjam u toplu mješavinu uspomena, mi smo

to moje autonomno senzorno sve

što opušta i rješava kronične bolove

nutrinu mi oblažući slojevima nježnosti.

Nedostaješ mi ljetan, nedostaješ mi svakakav.

Mogu ja i bez nas takvih, ali draže mi je kad ne moram.

Vani i dalje ta kiša, tupka i lupka i bliži me jeseni.

Marina Kuzmic Laszlo

English translation

How I Cover Up and Wrap Myself in Autumn

I’m aching: from autumn, from missing and from

carrying various heavy boxes.

The last one I might have prevented

if I had stretched a bit beforehand.

The rest is unavoidable. Autumn is damp, dreamy, the floors are cold,

and I am still summer’s favorite.

The sound of rain is a great comfort to my daughter; it’s

an autonomous sensory meridian response;

she walks more relaxed to school and into the day

with the patter of raindrops on her umbrella.

I’m glad for her and hope she enjoys it.

I crawl under a plain white blanket of medium thickness

to which, for sentimental reasons, I no longer add a quilt

because this naked one best represents for me

the days I spent naked and without covers.

And so we move on to missing. Rain truly suits

such things.

I miss that one primary simple blanket

draped over you while you sleep peacefully and soundly,

I miss my leg draped over yours,

the way you take hold of it so I can’t escape,

fingers intertwined, that eternal and necessary hand in hand.

I miss the windows I didn’t open, and those I did,

I even miss the doubts and fears I felt

though I wouldn’t happily return to them like to everything else.

I miss the gazing, the noticing, the laughing, and then

the food, the coffee, the walking between store aisles.

I immerse myself in a warm blend of memories; we are

this autonomous sensory thing of mine

that relaxes and soothes my chronic pains

by enveloping my essence with layers of tenderness.

I miss you in summer, I miss you in every way.

I can manage without this kind of us, but I prefer not to.

Outside, the rain continues, drumming and pattering, drawing me closer to autumn.

Copyright: All rights reserved, Marina Kuzmic Laszlo 2024.