![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/12\/madi-250x250.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
APEL IN SALA DE DISECTIE \/ CALL TO THE DISSECTING ROOM<\/p>\nTe treze\u0219\u021bi cu toate organele al\u0103turi.
Prive\u0219\u021bi, dar nu se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 nimic.
E o cas\u0103 f\u0103r\u0103 oglinzi – \u021bi se spune.<\/p>\nCineva care \u00ee\u021bi seam\u0103n\u0103 se apropie de fereastr\u0103.
Auzi: nu, sufletele noastre nu pot fi salvate,
dar cea mai bolnav\u0103,
cea mai murdar\u0103,
cea mai \u0219ireat\u0103,
cea mai vesel\u0103 amintire
e mai adev\u0103rat\u0103 dec\u00e2t r\u0103zboiul de o sut\u0103 de ani.
\u00ce\u021bi spui: pe o vreme ploioas\u0103 nu se poate muriat\u00e2t de u\u0219or;
\u0219i deschizi dulapul de haine cu o singur\u0103 b\u0103taie de inim\u0103.
Ah, frumoas\u0103 rochie de bal a frumoasei bunici!
Impudic\u0103 st\u0103 r\u0103sturnat\u0103-n ace; cu bra\u021bele-nmuiate-n var
frumoasa rochie de bal acoper\u0103 o existen\u021b\u0103
Brusc \u00ee\u021bi aduci aminte c\u0103 nu e\u0219\u021bi singur
\u0219i \u00eencepi s\u0103 cite\u0219ti,
\u00eencepi s\u0103 cite\u0219\u021bi,
incepi sa citesti
o pagin\u0103 alb\u0103 care se scrie singur\u0103.<\/p>\n
Vrei s\u0103 treci mai departe
dar posibila ta moarte \u00ee\u021bi sare \u00een fa\u021b\u0103 cu un p\u00e2ntec greoi.
Auzi: nu, sufletele noastre nu pot fi salvate.
\u00ce\u021bi desfaci bra\u021bele
\u0219i f\u00eel f\u00eel \u00een cuptorul de sticl\u0103.
Ai venit.
Ai v\u0103zut.
Te arunci \u00een cuptorul de sticl\u0103
Ehei, testamentul r\u0103ut\u0103cios al bunicului!
O fotografie trucat\u0103 \u0219i un s\u00e2n foarte mic.
Un mare\u0219al orb
cu o celebr\u0103 victorie \u00een \u0219ira spin\u0103rii. Un aisberg
sp\u00e2nzurat
de frumoasa rochie de bal a frumoasei bunici.
Cu un scris
m\u0103runt \u0219i peltic testamentul r\u0103ut\u0103cios al bunicului
comand\u0103 foc! din ma\u0219ina de scris…
Tu \u0219tii c\u0103 z\u0103pada nu poate salva un r\u0103zboi de o sut\u0103 de ani
dar ai m\u00e2ng\u00e2ia un animal friguros sau
te-ai \u00eentinde pe o ghea\u021b\u0103 frumos mirositoare sau
ai l\u0103sa iarna s\u0103-\u021bi cad\u0103 \u00een inim\u0103 ca un inel de cear\u0103 sau
ai defecta un sp\u0103rg\u0103tor de ghea\u021b\u0103, ca el s\u0103 se opreasc\u0103 brusc acolo,
banda rulant\u0103 a unei lumi \u00een care nu te recuno\u0219ti…
E\u0219ti dat jos de pe masa de opera\u021bie.
E o cas\u0103 f\u0103r\u0103 oglinzi.<\/p>\n
MARIANA MARIN<\/p>\n……………….<\/p>\n
CALL TO THE DISSECTING ROOM<\/p>\n
You wake up with all the organs by your side.
You watch, but nothing happens.
It’s a house without mirrors – you’re told.<\/p>\nSomeone who looks like you is approaching the window.
Listen: no, our souls cannot be saved,
but the sickest,
the dirtiest,
the most cunning,
the most cheerful memory
is truer than a hundred years’ war.
You say to yourself: in rainy weather one can’t die so easily;
and you open the wardrobe with a single heartbeat.
Ah, beautiful grandmother’s beautiful ball gown!
It sits impudently on its needles, with arms soaked in lime
the beautiful ball gown covers an existence
Suddenly you remember you’re not alone
and you begin to read,
you begin to read,
you begin to read
a blank page that writes itself.<\/p>\n
You want to move on
but your possible death jumps in front of you with a heavy belly.
Listen: no, our souls cannot be saved.
You open your arms
and flutter into the glass furnace.
You came.
You saw.
You throw yourself into the glass furnace
Hey, Grandpa’s wicked will!
A fake photo and a very small breast.
A blind marshal
with a famous victory in his spine. An iceberg
hanging
by the beautiful grandmother’s beautiful ball gown.
With a writing
small and lisp the grandfather’s wicked will
order fire! from the typewriter…
You know that snow can’t save a hundred-year-old war
but you would pet a cold animal or
you’d lie down on a nice-smelling ice or
you’d let winter fall on your heart like a wax ring or
you’d damage an ice-breaker, that it would suddenly stop there,
the conveyor belt of a world you don’t recognize yourself in…
You’re taken off the operating table.
It’s a house without mirrors.<\/p>\ntraducere, M. M. Biela<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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