Poem: Saving What Is Lost in Translation | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram

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Poem: Saving What Is Lost in Translation

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We drank cheap but decent red wine,
zwei Euro funfzehn
mixed with Coca-Cola
pretending we were old men from Spain
while watching Lost in Translation
on quiet laptop speakers
lacking proper cables,
lacking lots of things,
our first week in Berlin.

Never had I been
so estranged from language,
quickly grew tired
of giving shrugs and cute smiles
when I do not understand
you, or why.

Mein Deutsch must improve;
I do not want to be
another dumb American
just here for the music,
speaking Doner stand German,
scraping by, for a while,
on a little savings.

Supplies dwindle quickly.
Most of all: time.
So remember amidst difficulty,
more than anything:
I am here,
things will never be this way again,
not like this.
Not like this.

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