The little old lady laughs.

Portrait of an Old Woman, Nadezda Petrovic, 1909

TABLE TALK

The little old lady laughs like a little girl, going
On with the tale of this and that happy day.
Says the little old lady, “Oh, what times were they
When I fell in love without Grandmother’s knowing!”
The little old lady is a little rogue, showing
A malicious twinkle in the depths of her eyes.
How distinct the silver of her hair one descries
Against the caramel-tinted skin glowing.

The little old lady forgets how dull or shady
Life may be; and the wrinkles laugh over her face.
Sweet tremors through her blessed old body race:
And my dear looks at me and I look at my dear,
And we laugh, and we laugh . . . all the while we hear
The white history of the loves of the little old lady.

-Manuel Magallanes Moure (1878-1924) Chile
Translated by Muna Lee

4 thoughts on “The little old lady laughs.”

I enjoyed reading this poem from the first line – “The little old lady laughs like a little girl”.

Years ago I remember laughing and laughing with a senior friend of mine (I was in my 30s at the time) when I suddenly caught a glimpse of her face as she must have been in her own 30s years earlier. It was a split second. It startled me at the time, and as I think of it now, perhaps I saw this glimpse because we were laughing so much, enjoying each other’s company. Totally unaware of our own age difference.

Today when I see older folks out and about, who might be using a cane or are a little paunchy or bent over, I try to envision that beneath that ‘oldish’ face and body, there undoubtedly lurks the youthful, eager person they once were–and still are in their heart of hearts and in their soul.

Thanks so much for sharing this poem, Gretchen.

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