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

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Hands

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. 
Mainile

De la prima intalnire ne-am simtit legati unul de altul,
Si cand ne-am luat de mana, m-am bucurat
Ca un copil la atingerea ta.

Tine-ma de mana, mi-ai spus la spital.

Aveai maini mari, puternice si blande
Ca ale unui tata mediteraneean
Care mangaie crestetul unui copil.

Tine-ma de mana, mi-ai spus. Stiu
Ca nu voi muri daca esti aici.

M-ai luat de mana in primul nostru avion,
In salile de opera, sau cand priveai un film
Pe care doreai sa il vedem impreuna.

Tine-ma de mana, mi-ai spus. Voi adormi
Si nici nu voi simti ca nu esti aici.
 
Elena Daniela Radu

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