I’m used to you as I am used to air,
anywhere I look, everywhere you are,
deep in my wardrobe, on the table top,
in all my brain cells unknown, unaware.
But just it happened so the other day
you came in my room telling something odd;
so after years of years I realized
that here you are and scarcely listening
surprised I looked at you. I closed my eyes.
And this to myself I repeated mumbling:
“I’m used to her as I am used to air.
She is giving me the breath.”
— “To My Wife (Feleségemnek)”, Dezső Kosztolányi, translated by E.F. Kunz