He made a sand house
and stomped on it.
He made a cardboard house
and tore it to bits.
He made a wooden house
and a candle that warmed him burned it.
He made a tin house
with help from a neighborhood friend
who quarreled with him about ownership
so the two families razed it.
He made another out of stone
on the edge of the city
and armed individuals occupied it.
He made another carved into the mountain
and they flattened it to make a highway.
He went back at night to the place he’d been born
and didn’t find the house;
all he recognized were a few pigeons
who stared at him
so he’d give them some bird seed or a little water.
Translated by Alison Hughes
