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Poem

Doina Ioanid

12. My upstairs neighbour’s cough

My upstairs neighbour’s cough wakes me at midnight. The heavy-smoker cough of a man living alone. It’s vibrating, it goes through the walls and smacks into my solar plexus harder still than the sound of the reputed Red Violin.

12. My upstairs neighbour’s cough

Buurmans hoest in het appartement boven mij wekt me om middernacht. De rokershoest van een man alleen. Hij galmt, gaat de muren door en raakt me in de maagstreek, feller dan de klank van de beruchte Rode Viool.

Tusea vecinului din apartamentul de sus mă trezeşte la miezul nopţii. O tuse tabagică de bărbat singur. Vibrează, străbate pereţii şi mă loveşte în plex, mai puternic decît sunetul vestitei Viori Roşii.
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12. My upstairs neighbour’s cough

My upstairs neighbour’s cough wakes me at midnight. The heavy-smoker cough of a man living alone. It’s vibrating, it goes through the walls and smacks into my solar plexus harder still than the sound of the reputed Red Violin.

12. My upstairs neighbour’s cough

My upstairs neighbour’s cough wakes me at midnight. The heavy-smoker cough of a man living alone. It’s vibrating, it goes through the walls and smacks into my solar plexus harder still than the sound of the reputed Red Violin.
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