Past Name Days

by Kinga Fabó

I grew up in the shadow of Anna days.
Kinga left unmarked.
The Anna-fest already in swing.

I stand in a cloak. An Anna
and an Anna and an Anna.
I exist too! No sound comes.

No words in my mouth.
I’m swallowed up. Quickly forgotten.
Corrupted by the memories.

My pieces are transported
over rivers of nothing.
My traces scrubbed away

in time for my name day


Translated by Andrew Fentham.