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Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa \/ Intr-o lume care se intuneca incet incet \/ In a world still slowly darkening
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa
jossa lumihiutaleet kuin valaistut leijat
jossa kaltevat pilvet repeilev\u00e4t matkan painosta
meri on syltynharmaa tyrske, sielt\u00e4 haetaan aina jotain
kirkkaanv\u00e4risin lautoin, suruun opetellen.
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa.
Oli jokin ilta ja elokuvia ulkona ja valoja ja loistavia tuoleja
lampun lasiriekaleet ja kilisev\u00e4t syd\u00e4met, tuulen suuri koneisto
kaikki muuttuu purjeeksi kun tarpeeksi puhaltaa.
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa.
Kuin n\u00e4kisi esineist\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 varjon
olemuksen jolla ei ole k\u00e4ytt\u00f6\u00e4
joka on vain pime\u00e4n ja valon \u00e4\u00e4net\u00f6nt\u00e4 liikett\u00e4
ja pisteiden ja viivojen vimmaa muodosta pois:
punainen kannu hajoaa, nimi katoaa
sormilla v\u00e4r\u00e4htelev\u00e4t mustelmat
ovat enemm\u00e4n totta kuin sormet.
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa
r\u00e4v\u00e4ht\u00e4\u00e4 syksyn keltainen lakana,
kaislojen himmenev\u00e4t heilurit vasten veden ter\u00e4svaijeria.
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa.
Taivas on oikeastaan sinist\u00e4 pleksi\u00e4
jota sin\u00e4 pitelet k\u00e4ttesi v\u00e4liss\u00e4
ja kyll\u00e4stytty\u00e4si p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4t otteen
ja pingotettu muovi v\u00e4p\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 tiehens\u00e4.
Ja onko tuo taivaansininen pallo vai maisemassa reik\u00e4
kaikki muistuttaa toisesta
sill\u00e4 tavoin olen avain kipuusi, tai ehk\u00e4 ohimennen j\u00e4\u00e4 mykist\u00e4\u00e4 meid\u00e4t.
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa
ly\u00f6n p\u00e4\u00e4ni hanaan ja seiniin ja kulmiin
jotta se mik\u00e4 minussa on tiell\u00e4 aina
v\u00e4istyy eik\u00e4 tule takaisin.
Suojatien vilkkuvat vastakohdat.
Ja kaduilla syksyn v\u00e4rit, pime\u00e4n, raudan ja ysk\u00f6ksien:
eik\u00f6 tuo tytt\u00f6 n\u00e4e
h\u00e4nen puseronsa on mustelmilla h\u00e4nen mekkonsa valuu verta.
Jos ei edes menetys pid\u00e4 meist\u00e4 kiinni
kuka pit\u00e4isi
yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa.
Tuuli henkii hopeakuulia kuperassa y\u00f6ss\u00e4
h\u00f6yhenkorkeassa y\u00f6ss\u00e4
tuijotan liikennevaloon joka v\u00e4lkkyy keltaista. Kerro valo.
Tarkoittaako t\u00e4m\u00e4 l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4 vai pys\u00e4hdyst\u00e4
h\u00e4t\u00e4isi\u00e4 muistoja auringosta
vesi\u00e4 lainehtivalla kadulla
sade jota kutsut mustaksi n\u00e4kyy l\u00e4pi
niin kaikki mik\u00e4 todella tekee kipe\u00e4\u00e4.
Kun aukeava ovi rep\u00e4isee k\u00e4dest\u00e4 nahan
Yh\u00e4 hiljalleen h\u00e4m\u00e4rtyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa.
Kun lauseet ja merkitys katoavat
ja v\u00e4reily on liikett\u00e4 joka ei tied\u00e4 suuntaansa
ilmaa haukkovissa liekeiss\u00e4, taivaanrajan mustuneissa pilviss\u00e4
katujen enteilev\u00e4ss\u00e4 hiljaisuudessa ja tuulisten peltojen
putoavien koneiden uumenissa
maailmanakselin natisevassa liikkeess\u00e4
kylmettyneiden t\u00e4htien kierrossa
k\u00e4teen putoavassa lumihiutaleessa
yh\u00e4 hiljalleen, yh\u00e4 hiljalleen
Saila SUSILUOTO
……………..
INTR-O LUME CARE SE INTUNECA INCET INCET
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca incet incet
unde fulgii de z\u0103pad\u0103 sunt ca ni\u0219te zmee luminate
si norii \u00eenclina\u021bi se destrama sub greutatea drumului
marea este o forta cenusie, in care scotocim mereu
lunecand pe plute viu colorate, \u00eenv\u0103\u021b\u00e2nd sa jelim.
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet.
A fost o sear\u0103 si filme in aer liber \u0219i lumini \u0219i scaune str\u0103lucitoare
cioburile de sticl\u0103 ale unei lampi \u0219i inimi vibrande, marele mecanism al v\u00e2ntului:
totul devine o vel\u0103 c\u00e2nd sufla destul de puternic.
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet.
Ca \u0219i cum din lucruri n-ar mai ramane decat umbra,
o esenta fara nici un folos
doar mi\u0219carea t\u0103cut\u0103 a \u00eentunericului \u0219i a luminii
\u0219i frenezia punctelor \u0219i liniilor iesind din form\u0103:
ulciorul ro\u0219u se sparge, numele dispare
si mult mai reale dec\u00e2t degetele in sine
sunt v\u00e2n\u0103t\u0103ile care vibreaz\u0103 pe ele.
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet
cearsaful galben al toamnei f\u00e2lf\u00e2ie,
pendulele palide ale stufului profilate pe firul de o\u021bel al apei.
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet
cerul este de fapt un plexiglas albastru
pe care \u00eel \u021bii \u00eentre palme
iar c\u00e2nd te saturi de el \u00eei dai drumul
iar plasticul \u00eentins falfaie ducandu-se.
\u0218i este oare aceea o sfera albastr\u0103 ca cerul sau o gaur\u0103 \u00een peisaj
totul aminte\u0219te de altcineva
astfel sunt cheia durerii tale, sau poate in treacat, inghetul ne amuteste.
\u00centr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet
ma dau cu capul de robinet, \u0219i de pere\u021bi, \u0219i de col\u021buri
ca ceea ce \u00eemi st\u0103 mereu \u00een cale s\u0103 se de la o parte
\u0219i sa nu mai revina.
Contrastele intermitente al trecerii de pietoni.
Si pe str\u0103zi culorile toamnei, ale-ntunericului, fierului \u0219i flegmei:
nu vede oare fata aceea
bluza ei e plina de vanatai, rochia ei sangereaza.
Dac\u0103 nici m\u0103car pierderea nu ne opreste
atunci cine ar putea
\u00eentr-o lume care se intuneca \u00eencet incet.
V\u00e2ntul respira margele de argint \u00een noaptea boltita
\u00een noaptea inalta ca o pan\u0103
Privesc semaforul care clipe\u0219te galben. Spune-mi lumina.
\u00censeamn\u0103 asta plecare sau o oprire?
Amintiri grabite ale soarelui
pe strada care unduieste in ape.
ploaia pe care o nume\u0219ti neagr\u0103 este stravezie
precum tot ceea ce doare cu adev\u0103rat.
C\u00e2nd u\u0219a care se deschide smulge pielea din palma
\u00centr-o lume care \u00eenc\u0103 se intuneca \u00eencet incet.
C\u00e2nd propozitiile \u0219i sensul dispar
\u0219i palpairea este o mi\u0219care care nu-si cunoa\u0219te direc\u021bia
\u00een fl\u0103c\u0103rile agonizand dupa aer, \u00een norii \u00eennegriti ai orizontului
\u00een t\u0103cerea prevestitoare a str\u0103zilor, \u0219i a c\u00e2mpurilor bantuite de v\u00e2nt
\u00een maruntaiele masinilor care se prabusesc
\u00een mi\u0219carea gemanda a axei lumii
\u00een rota\u021bia stelelor \u00eenghe\u021bate
in fulgul de z\u0103pad\u0103 care cade \u00een palma
\u00eencet incet,
incet \u00eencet.
……………………………………
IN A WORLD STILL SLOWLY DARKENING
In a world still slowly darkening
where snowflakes are like illuminated kites,
where slanted clouds tear under the weight of travel,
the sea is a lard-gray surge \u2014 something is always sought there,
on brightly colored rafts, learning grief.
In a world still slowly darkening.
There was an evening, outdoor movies, lights, gleaming chairs,
the glass shards of a lamp and clinking hearts, the great machinery of wind:
everything becomes a sail when it is blown hard enough.
In a world still slowly darkening.
As if now one saw only the shadow of things,
an essence with no use,
nothing but the silent motion of dark and light,
the dots and lines frantically slipping out of form:
the red jug shatters, the name disappears,
the vibrating bruises of the fingers
are more real than the fingers themselves.
In a world still slowly darkening
autumn\u2019s yellow sheet bursts open,
the dimming pendulums of reeds against the steel wire of water.
In a world still slowly darkening.
The sky is in fact blue plexiglass
you hold between your hands,
and once you’ve lost your interest you let go,
and the stretched plastic flutters away.
And is that a sky-blue sphere or a hole in the landscape \u2014
everything reminds of the other
in that way I am the key to your pain,
or perhaps, in passing, the cold makes us speechless.
In a world still slowly darkening
I bang my head against the tap, walls, corners,
so that whatever in me always stands in the way
steps aside and does not return.
The flashing opposites of the crosswalk.
And on the streets the colors of autumn: darkness, iron, phlegm.
can\u2019t that girl see \u2014
her blouse is bruised, her dress is bleeding.
If not even loss can hold on to us,
who could,
In a world still slowly darkening.
The wind breathes silver pellets into the domed, feather-light night.
I stare at a traffic light blinking amber. Tell me, light:
does this mean go, or stop?
Hasty memories of the sun
in the water rippling across the street,
the rain you call black is transparent,
so is everything that truly hurts.
When the opening door tears the skin from the hand \u2014
in a world still slowly darkening.
When sentences and meanings vanish
and vibration is motion that knows no direction,
in flames gasping for air, in the blackened clouds of the horizon,
in the ominous silence of streets and the wind-swpt fields,
in the bellies of falling machines,
in the creaking motion of the world\u2019s axis,
in the rotation of frozen stars,
in a snowflake landing into the palm,
still slowly, still slowly.
trad. M. M. Biela<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,12,10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11368","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-contemporary-poetry","category-translated-finnish-english","category-translated-finnish-romanian"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11368","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11368"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11368\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11370,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11368\/revisions\/11370"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11368"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11368"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11368"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}