Spurred by a young boy’s reckless curiosity,
my son — as in a nightmare — rushed toward danger.
I leapt, struck dumb with fear, and without a word,
I slapped him — straight across his smile.

My palm sank softly
into still-wet clay.
And every holy child,
inside each expecting woman,
flinched like a startled fish
and stood still.

Translated by Rosalia Ignatova