TRANSLATION CAFÉ, Nr. 19/November 15, 2007 |Translations from: Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold, Hands , by Arina Lungu

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We first recognised each other as if we were siblings,
and when we held hands your touch
made me stupidly happy.

Hold my hand, you said in the hospital

You had big hands, strong hands, gentle
as those of a Mediterranean father
caressing the head of a child.

Hold my hand , you said. I feel
I won’t die while you are here.

You took my hand on our first aeroplane
and in opera houses, or watching
a video you wanted me to share.

Hold my hand, you said. I’ll fall asleep
and won’t even know you’re not there. 
 De Mana Cu Tine

Ne-am recunoscut de prima data,
de parca am fi fost frate si sora,
si cand m-ai luat de mana
m-a invadat o fericire prosteasca.

Tine-ma de mana, ai zis la spital.

Aveai maini uriase, puternice, tandre
ca ale un tata din Mediterana
care-si mangaie copilul pe cap.

Tine-ma de mana,ai zis. Simt
ca n-o sa mor daca esti langa mine.

M-ai luat de mana la primul nostru zbor
si la concerte, sau cand voiai
sa traim un videoclip impreuna.

Tine-ma de mana, ai zis.O sa adorm
si n-o sa-mi dau seama ca nu mai esti aici.
 Arina Lungu

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