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

Publicat deIoana Ioana

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. 
 Maini

Ne-am recunoscut la inceput parc-am fi fost de-aceeasi mama
Iar cand ne tineam de mana, atingerea ta
ma facea prostesc de fericita.

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

Aveai maini mari, puternice, maini tandre
ca ale unui tata mediteranean
ce mangaie-un copil pe cap.

Tine-ma de mana, mi-ai spus. Simt eu
Ca n-am sa mor cat esti aici cu mine.

M-ai luat de mana la primul nostru zbor cu avionul,
si la opera ori cand ne uitam
la o caseta video pe care voiai s-o vad si eu.

Tine-ma de mana, mi-ai spus. O sa adorm
Si nici macar n-am sa stiu ca nu esti aici.
Gabriela Moldovan
 

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