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

Publicat deIoana Ioana

Willesden Green

The band of mourners shuffled out across
a field of mud past rows of marble slabs
to watch your wooden box
lowered into the earth, there to be lost
beneath the shovelled soil.
Who turned up ? It doesn’t matter now.
The ceaseless rain poured over all of us.

I remember the cold, and wanting to be
home again, but not much more.
A hand I held, a son supported me,

I listened to a good friend’s eulogy.
My mind was numb. What’s happening?
you asked me once in a high fever.
And I reassured you then. Now I am dumb   
Willesden Green

Convoiul de indoliati inainta cu greu peste
un camp plin de noroi,
pe langa siruri de lespezi de marmura
sa-ti vada cutia de lemn coborata in
pamant, sa se piarda acolo sub solul rascolit.
Cine-a venit? Nu mai conteaz-acum.
Ploua la nesfarsit peste noi toti.

Imi amintesc frigul si ca-mi doream sa fiu
din nou acasa, insa nu altceva.
O mana de care ma tineam, un fiu ma sprijinea.

Am ascultat elogiul unui bun prieten.
Imi era mintea amortita. Ce se intampla?
m-ai intrebat candva, cand aveai febra.
Si-atunci te-am linistit. Acum sunt amortita.
 Gabriela Moldovan

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