| Stuff Here we came in hot July, with the treasures of a whole life together shambled in boxes to be unwrapped and set out in new places: the ebon carving of Rama’s wife, Sita, each hair precisely cut, the puppets from Prague, heavy art deco goblets, a Sung fan discovered in South East Asia, a cherry-wood flute player. You were always eager to explore, and equally pleased to investigate auction rooms or an Oxfam shop. In a hardware store, you discovered elegance in a simple tool for shaving slivers of cheese. Even caches of paper clips and staplers hold your presence, and the screws, and Aruldite stored under the stairs you often used to mend the backs of chairs. Not to speak of the imac, in which your spirit still continues: nets of thought intensely lived. And most of all , in walnut drawers beneath the table by our bed where once you kept sleeping pills and indigestion tablets : your hearing aid, your spectacles, your teeth. | Lucruri Am venit aici intr-un iulie fierbinte, cu averile unei vieti intregi impreuna macelarite-n cutii ca sa fie despachetate si puse in locuri noi: sculptura in abanos a sotiei lui Rama, Sita, cu fiecare fir de par taiat cu precizie, papusile din Praga, cupele grele stil art deco, un evantai Sung descoperit in Asia de Sud-Est, un flautist din lemn de cires. Erai mereu dornic sa descoperi si te bucurai la fel de mult sa rascolesti prin salile de licitatii sau prin vreun magazin Oxfam. La o feronerie ai descoperit elegantsa dintr-un simplu instrument de taiat felii subtiri de branza. Pana si proviziile de agrafe de hartie si capsatoare iti pastreaza prezentsa, si suruburile si adezivii depozitati sub scara pe care-i foloseai ades sa repari spatarele scaunelor. Ca sa nu mai vorbesc de huse, in care spiritul tau a ramas inca: plase de ganduri traite intens. Si mai presus de toate, in sertarele de nuc de sub masa de langa patul nostru unde-ti pastrai somniferele si tabletele pentru indigestie: aparatul auditiv, ochelarii, placa dentara. Gabriela Moldovan |
TRANSLATION CAFÉ 2008, Nr. 23/January 15, 2008, Anny Ballardini, Translations from: Anny Ballardini – Someone else by Cristina Nistor – 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...