TRANSLATION CAFÉ, Nr. 19/November 15, 2007 |Translations from: Elaine Feinstein: Poems for Arnold, Hands , by Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

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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.  
Maini

Ne-am recunoscut la-nceput ca si cum am fi fost frati,
Iar cand ne-am luat de mana atingerea ta
m-a facut absurd de fericita.

Ia-ma de mana, mi-ai spus in spital.

Aveai maini mari, maini puternice, blande
Ca cele ale unui tata mediteranean
Mangaind crestetul unui copil.

Ia-ma de mana, ai spus. Simt ca
n-am sa mor cat esti tu aici.

M-ai luat de mana in primul nostru avion
Si la opera, sau cand ne uitam la
Vreun film pe care-ti doreai sa-l vad si eu.

Tine-ma de mana, ai spus. Am sa adorm
si nici macar nu voi sti ca nu esti aici.
 Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

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