See, a hand sweeps stars
    from the August sky,
as if my mother swept off the supper crumbs from the table at home.
Her apron, slipping now and then, smells of parsley
     and chives--
The sweet scent of her long-gone garden
     sending me to sleep beside you tonight again.

From Before and After the Fall by Sandor Csoori, translated from the Hungarian by Len Roberts. Copyright © 2004 by BOA Editions, Ltd. Reprinted by permission of BOA Editions, Ltd. All rights reserved.