POEM DE DRAGOSTE / LOVE POEM

POSTED IN Mariana February 6, 2022

POEM DE DRAGOSTE / LOVE POEM

Am capatat o uriasa forta de convingere.
Vechea fusta inflorata roseste in camere albe si verzi
iar eu imbatranesc intr-o palida furie…
Incerc o constructie sensibila in fata oglinzii.
De spate zile vorbesc in fata oglinzii.
De sapte zile stau vopsita ca o mireasa si vorbesc
in fata oglinzii:
“He-hei, cetateni ai Castaliei!
Am imbatranit fara sa stim mai nimic
despre corabiile in care bunul Dumnezeu
ne-a numarat oasele
– si parca tot sunt putine!
He-hei, cetateni!
Am imbatranit ca niste prosti!
Pielea magarului este scumpa
iar a leopardului nu are cautare.
Uite, eu: femeie frumoasa
eu am o rotula frumoasa
si dintii mei albi nu se mai satura privind-o.
Dar creierul meu frumos?
I-ati cercetat indeaproape invelisul
si in adoratie (se stie!) nu poti ramane multa vreme”,
he-hei, cetateni…
De sapte zile in provincie miezul noptii
ma ademeneste cu sangele ei proaspat.
Noi le vom rupe oasele cu o singuratate feroce.
Le vom aminti de cantecul orb pe care l-au imbratisat
papagalii.
“Noi care nimic n-am avut…”
De sapte zile oglinzile plang pe fata lumii de iarna;
papagalii isi fac cuib in vorbele mele nepamantene;
gura ta alba se masoara cu mine
iar eu imbatranesc intr-o palida furie…
Desigur, capatasem o uriasa forta de
convingere.
(Cumplita anestezie in matasuri japoneze!)
Albeam in fata oglinzii, intindeam o mana,
vorbeam un cuvant, respiram…
– Ca o epoca blanda,
ghemuita in raftul de sus al bibliotecii, spuneai.

O noapte tot mai cetoasa.
Un pamant tot mai intunecat.
O femeie tot mai aproape de sine.

MARIANA MARIN

………………….

LOVE POEM

I’ve acquired a huge force of conviction.
The old flowered skirt blushes in white and green rooms
and I grow old in a pale rage …
I try a sensible construction in front of the mirror.
For seven days I’ve been talking in front of the mirror.
For seven days I’ve stood painted like a bride and talked
in front of the mirror:
“Hey hey, citizens of Castalia!
We’ve grown old without knowing anything
about the ships in which the good God
counted our bones
– and they still seem to be few!
Hey hey, citizens!
We’ve grown old like some fools!
The donkey’s skin is expensive
and the leopard’s is not sought after.
Look, me: beautiful woman
I have a beautiful patella
and my white teeth can’t get enough of looking at it.
What about my beautiful brain?
You have closely researched its sheath
and in adoration (it is known!) one cannot remain long “,
hey hey, citizens …
For seven days in the province
midnight lures me with its fresh blood..
We’ll break their bones with a fierce loneliness.
We’ll remind them of the blind song that the parrots
embraced.
“We who had nothing …”
For seven days the mirrors have been weeping on the face of the winter world;
the parrots nest in my unearthly words;
your white mouth is measuring against me
and I grow old in a pale rage …
Of course, I’d acquired an enormous force of conviction.
(Terrible anesthesia in Japanese silk!)
I was whitening in front of the mirror, holding out a hand,
speaking a word, breathing …
– Like a gentle age,
crouched on the top shelf of the library, you said.

A night growing ever more hazy.
A darkening land.
A woman ever closer to herself.

traducere M. M. Biela