When your mother steps into the doorway

When your mother

steps into the doorway

and I turn my head

to see her,

my gaze does not alight

first on her face,

but on the place

nearer to the threshhold;

there, where

your dear face would be

when you would step in

with bright joy,

as you used to, my little daughter.

When your mother steps

into the doorway

with the gleam of a candle,

it always seems to me as if

you came in as well,

slipping in behind her,

just as you used to come into the room!

O you, a father's cell,

alas! too quickly

you extinguish the gleam of joy!