Rúfus, Milan: Mom´s lattice crust pie (Mamin mrežovník Angol nyelven)

Nedeľné obedy zdobieval...
A bol vzácny
jak tvoje ruky, mama.

Dnes už ten koláč
vonia iba v básni.
A spolu s tebou odišiel do neznáma.

Hľadievam občas spoza jeho mreží
a hádam, za čo a kto ma to chce trestať.
Hľadím a hľadám.
A môj čas ticho sneží.

Sneží a sneží,
akoby nechcel prestať.

A iba občas napovie
i mne i mojej básni:

"Živé sa bráni, ako vie.
Čo bolo, to raz nebude.

A tak má človek v osude mriežku.
Tú, za ktorou kedysi býval šťastný..."

Sunday lunches were adorned by it
And it was unique
like your hands mom.

Today that pie still
smells so good only in poems.
And together with you went away into obscurity.

I do time from behind its bars,
and I wonder, who wants to punish me. And for what?
I watch and I search.
And time silently snows.

Snows and snows,
as if it doesn’t want to stop.

And only sometimes does it prompt
Me and my poems:

"All living flesh resists as well as it knows how,
But what once was, one day will not be.

And that’s where emotions criss-cross in man’s fate.
Behind whose little bars you were once happy."