Audio recording – Hanna Komar

Tuesday, 26 May 2020

A poem by Hanna Komar, read by the poet.


Hanna Komar is an award-winning poet and translator based in Minsk, Belarus. She has published two poetry collections (Fear of Heights in Belarusian and a bilingual collection Recycled). Hanna writes in Belarusian and translates her texts into English.


I cried every second day  

then every day, my skin burning 

when the eggs spit on the pan

when the boiling hot tea spilled over my hands

when your mother didn’t believe my single word.


You cried only once

when I happened to sit on your glasses

you laughed with me

only twice

I don’t remember why

suddenly, there was such light

as if I was given a sun

only for me.


I cried every third night 

after those three minutes with the lights off

when you allowed me to wear no clothes

which hid the wrinkles of my belly

a baby could smooth them out

but I had ten more kilos to lose

till your consent.


My soul wailed like a street trader at the central market  

of Casablanca that your goods were the best. 

I didn’t believe her but got them time after time.