Who I am Poem by Svetlana Cârstean

I look at men and wonder who I am.
Gone are the times long ago when my grandpa would put on his tall boots
and leap across the big puddles on the street with me on his back, on the
way to kindergarten.
Gone, too, the times when I had nightmares every night, and my papa
would come to my bed and rest his hand on my stomach to soothe me. It
would stay there until I fell asleep. I'd even wake up in the morning
and he'd be next to me.
Gone are the times when my papa washed me head to toe, gone the time
of my first visit to a gynecological clinic, where I went with him as well.

Gone are the years I learned from him about the yew, the spruce, the pine
and the fir trees.
Are they forever gone?

Translation from Romanian by Claudia Serea