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Speak low

“Lined up we are, hours and hours and hours
Women, children, we count, count and count
Intense heat, counting the hours
in the rising sun for a thousand years
hours and hours and hours, in the heat of the sun
And the Japanese keep counting, but with an
empty stomach counting in Japanese is too hard

Translated from a Dutch poem

We tiptoed through the house. We had to be quiet. Not just
quiet-quiet. But like in extremely quiet. There was no music in our
house. And if there was, we better turned the volume down.

Nowadays, I hear people complain about my voice. My voice is too low
and if I could speak up a bit. I get irritated when the TV’s on when
we’re having supper. And, like the old man, I sneak around in my own
house, afraid of waking up old ghosts. Old ghosts.