The Flowerbed in the Kilim
Translated by Mark Andryczyk
A multi-colored kilim was hanging on the wall in the living room, on which a flowerbed was woven, behind the flowerbed a little orchard, and in the orchard — a small house under a red cherry tree. The little house was so charming that, every time I looked at it, I was struck with a strange and insurmountable sadness. I wanted to find out who lived in that little house and whose flowerbed it was. The flowers that grew there were truly remarkable — even Auntie’s flowerbed didn’t have these kinds of flowers, neither did her straw hat.
When I put my ear to the kilim I heard the rattling of moths and the buzzing of bumblebees, while my nose caught the intoxicating scent of flowers, dew and honey. But, no matter how often I gazed at the
