Psychoanalysis

Halka, my sunshine, don’t block the light
        there’s hardly any as it is,
life is beautiful
    but sooner or later must end
on a couch between Freud and Lacan
        Halka, the last war exorcized
women, children and the elderly from our bodies
            as prayer did the devil,       
what followed was nothing to fear
        it was a vaccination against
the sappy pathos of peace
        and the nations’ safe sex,           
listen, Halka,
millions have already died of AIDS
        more than in the last war
     but, you and me, we’re alive –
        this has to mean something,
after long separations we become estranged from tenderness
and everything becomes habit, quick and eager,
so a happy ending in life
        just as in this, not the last war,
is difficult to imagine
     but I’m telling you truthfully, Halka, believe me –
life is beautiful . . .

PSYCHOANALYSIS