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

Publicat deIoana Ioana

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 oare ai inceput sa folosesti si-al doilea baston,
Si-ai inceput sa umbli ca un schior de fond?
Alunecarea ta si-a faurit propria logica.
In iulie trecut, puteai sa te intinzi
Ca un acrobat, sa ungi masa din gradina.
Foisorul dadea-nspre sud. Era toiul verii.

Cafeaua si grepfruitul erau ritualul de la micul dejun,
Ori oua fierte mancate din vase albastruie de lut.
Il numeai paradisul nostru, ca o casuta de vacanta
Pe care-am fi putut-o alege undeva in Provence.
Nici unul din noi n-a inteles ca erai in pericol.
Nici macar atunci cand am chemat salvarea:

Fusesesi prin atatea spitale,
Bifandu-ti meniurile, ridicand din umeri la-ntepaturi si teste
Palavragind neincetat cu vizitatorii—
Indelungata-ti neputinta te-a facut amarnic de istet.
Ghemuit pe-atolul tau si-ngropat in hartii
Te ciondaneai deseori ca un barbat furios.

De-asta data totusi, ai fost ciudat de bland.
Chipul ti s-a luminar de-ndata ce-am sosit;
Zambind, ai gonit infirmierele si-ai spus
Pleacati acum, vorbesc cu sotia mea.
Ti-a placut cand mi-am facut curaj sa-ti spun
Ca sa te vad era momentul principal al zilei pentru mine.

Infirmierele, zorite de timp, au tras de tine-n sus si-n jos
Si ti-au aranjat patul fara prea mari formalitati.
Ai vorbit de casa de parca erai ET
Si-ai vrut sa te iau cu masina—ceea ce
As fi facut daca asistenta sefa ar fi fost complice.
Dragul meu, te-au adus aici ca pe-o pasare zdrobita.

Omoplatii iti strapungeau pielea
Un pomete proeminent impungand perna.
Si totusi nici unul din noi n-a pomenit de moarte.
Iubirea mea, mi-ai soptit, ma simt asa de-nsiguranta cu tine.
In acea zi de luni, in timp ce telefonam, ai asteptat credincios
Sa ma intorc, inainte sa-ti dai si ultima suflare.Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

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