Letters to Milena

by Franz Kafka

It occurs to me that I really can’t remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figure, your dress, that I still see.

But I wanted to read you in Czech because, after all, you do belong to that language, because only there can Milena be found in her entirety

All right then, I’ll be mad at you on this score, which incidentally is no great misfortune, as things balance out quite well if there’s a little anger for you lurking in one corner of my heart.

I’ve lost my way a little, but that doesn’t matter, because if you’ve accompanied me, then we’re both lost.