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

Publicat deIoana Ioana


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. 

Ne-am recunoscut de prima data de parca am fi fost frati,
si cand ne-am luat de mana atingerea ta
m-a naucit de bucurie.

Tine-ma de mana, spuneai atunci in spital.

Mainile tale erau mari, puternice, blande
ca ale unui tata de la Mediterana
ce isi mangaie pe crestet pruncul.

Tine-ma de mana, spuneai. Simt
ca nu voi muri cat tu esti aici.

M-ai luat de mana la primul zbor cu avionul
si la opera, sau cand ne uitam la un film
pe care vroiai sa il imparti cu mine..

Tine-ma de mana, spuneai. O sa adorm
si nici nu voi stii ca nu esti aici.
 Florentina Rahira Tinte

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