| Home When was it you took up that second stick, and began to walk like a cross country skier ? Your glide developed its own politics. Last July, you were able to stretch over like an acrobat, to oil the garden table. The patio faced South. It was high Summer. Coffee and grapefruit was the breakfast ritual, or boiled eggs eaten from blue terracotta. Our paradise you called it , like a gite we might have chosen somewhere in Provence. Neither of us understood you were in danger. Not even when we called the ambulance: you’d been inside so many hospitals, ticking your menus, shrugging off jabs and scans talking unstoppably to visitors—- your long crippling made you bitterly clever. Humped on your atoll, and awash with papers you often argued like an angry man. This time , however, you were strangely gentle. Your face lit up as soon as I arrived; smiling, you shooed the nurses out, and said Now go away, I’m talking to my wife. You liked it, when I brought myself to say seeing you was the high point of my day. The nurses, pushed for time, hauled you about and fixed the bed without much ceremony. You spoke of home, as if you were ET, and wanted me to fetch you in the car—as I would have, if the staff nurse had concurred. Darling, they brought you in like a broken bird. Your shoulder blades were sharp beneath your skin, a high cheek bone poignant against the pillow. Yet neither of us spoke a word of death. My love, you whispered, I feel so safe with you. That Monday, while I phoned, you waited loyally for my return, before your last breath. | Acasa Cand ai luat si cel de-al doilea baston, Si ai inceput sa mergi ca un schior de fond? Alunecarea ta si-a dezvoltat propria metoda. Acum un an in Iulie, puteai sa te arcuiesti ca un acrobat, ca sa vopsesti masa din gradina. Curtea era spre sud. Era in mijlocul verii. La micul dejun, un ritual: cafea si grepfrut, Sau oua fierte servite in vase albastre de lut. Paradisul nostru, cum il numeai tu, ca o cabana de vacanta pe care ne-am fi putut-o alege undeva in Provence. Niciunul din noi nu a inteles ca tu esti in pericol. Nici macar atunci cand am chemat ambulanta: ai fost internat in asa de multe spitale, insemnandu-ti fisele, nu-ti mai pasa de intepaturi si teste stateai la taclale cu vizitatorii — handicapul prelungit te-a facut amarnic de inteligent. Incovoiat peste atolul tau si acoperit de hartii te certeai adesea ca un om manios. De data asta, totusi, erai ciudat de bland. Fata ta s-a luminat in clipa in care eu am sosit; Zambind, le-ai izgonit pe asistente afara, si ai spus Plecati acum, vreau sa vorbesc cu sotia mea. Ti-a placut, cand am ajuns sa zic ca Vederea ta mi-a implinit ziua. Asistentele, in criza de timp, te-au mutat Si ti-au aranjat patul fara mare formalitate. Vorbeai de acasa de parca erai ET, Si vroiai sa te iau cu mine in masina —ceea ce as fi facut, daca asistentele ar fi fost de acord. Dragule, erai ca o pasare franta cand te-au adus aici. De sub piele iti ieseau ascutiti omoplatii, Cu un pomete proeminent impungeai perna. Cu toate astea niciunul dintre noi nu vorbea de moarte. Dragostea mea, mi-ai soptit, ma simt in siguranta cu tine. In acea zi de luni, cand tocmai telefonam, tu asteptai loial intoarcerea mea, inainte sa iti dai ultima suflare.Florentina Rahira Tinte |
TRANSLATION CAFÉ 2008, Nr. 23/January 15, 2008, Anny Ballardini, Translations from: Anny Ballardini – Someone else by Gabriela Moldovan – Altcineva
Anny Ballardini - Someone elseI woke up this morningand they had stolen my carmy house my bed my eyesmy mind my family my fatemy job my friendsleft there on the scorching groundI went downtown and got a plastic hearta couple of colored marbles for my...