Name and Tears

Translated by Erica Segre and Simon Carnell

I was writing in the gravel in the garden and it was dark already; lit for a while now by the lights from all the windows.

The guard passed by.

‘What are you writing?’ he asked.

‘A word,’ I replied.

He bent down to have a look, but couldn’t make it out.

‘What word is it?’ he asked again.

‘Well,’ I said. ‘It’s a name.’

He jangled his keys.

‘With no ‘Long live …’? No ‘Down with …’?’

‘Oh no!’ I exclaimed.

And I laughed as well.

‘It’s the name of a person,’ I said.

‘A person you’re waiting for?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’m waiting for her.’

Then the guard walked away, and I resumed my writing. I wrote and reached the earth beneath the gravel: I dug and wrote, and the night turned blacker still.

The guard returned.

‘Still writing?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ve written a bit more.’

‘What else have you written?’ he asked.

‘Nothing else,’ I replied. ‘Nothing except that word.’

‘What?’ the guard shouted. ‘Nothing except that name?’

And he rattled his keys again, and lit his lantern to have a look.

‘So I see,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing there but that name.’

He raised the lantern and looked into my face.

‘I’ve written it deeper,’ I explained.

‘Is that right?’ he replied. ‘If you want to continue, I’ll give you a hoe.’

‘Give it to me,’ I said.

The guard gave me the hoe, then went off again, and with the hoe I dug and wrote the name deep into the ground. In truth I would have inscribed it as far down as seams of coal or iron are found, down to the most secret metals, which bear ancient names. But the guard came back again and said: ‘You have to leave now. It’s closing time.’

I climbed out of the name ditch.

‘All right,’ I replied.

I put down the hoe, wiped my brow and looked at the city around me, through the dark trees.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘All right.’

The guard grinned.

‘She hasn’t come, right?’

‘She hasn’t come,’ I said.

But immediately afterwards I asked: ‘Who hasn’t come?’

The guard lifted his lantern and looked into my face like before.

‘The person you were waiting for.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘she hasn’t come.’

But then once again, straight away I asked: ‘What person?’

‘Damn it!’ the guard said. ‘The person with the name.’

He shook his lantern, rattled his keys and added: ‘If you’d like to wait a little longer, don’t mind me.’

‘That isn’t what matters,’ I said. ‘But thanks.’

But I didn’t leave, I stayed and the guard stayed with me, as if to keep me company.

‘Lovely night!’ he said.

‘Lovely,’ I said.

Then, carrying his lantern, he took a few steps towards the trees.

‘I wonder,’ he said. ‘Are you sure she’s not there?’

I knew that she could not have come, yet I was startled.