O NUIA DE STICLA / A GLASS ROD

POSTED IN Mariana November 23, 2021

 

 

O NUIA DE STICLA / A GLASS ROD

 

In fiecare dimineata se trezea cu un singur gand.
Mult timp a trait asa.
Isi lovea memoria cu o nuia de sticla.
O punea la fiert.
O arata tuturor, doar doar va spune cineva:
iata glorioasa victorie a celui slab
si singura pasarea va ingheta in zborul ei sunator…
Isi vopsea mainile, fata, duminicile.
Iarna refuza sa manance salata.
Rasturna cartile bibliotecii pana cand ele incepeau
sa sufere.
Despre boala citise la 17 ani totul
(i se parea o sansa).
Despre iubire la fel.
Mania ei:
o corabie cu panze in mijlocul camerei.
Nebunia ei:
corbi, cat mai multi corbi
si statuia celebra din piata.
Perversiunea ei:
scancetul unui robinet sinucigas.
Nebunia ei:
un razboi de zapada.

Au trait asa mult, mult, mult timp.
Si in fiecare dimineata se trezea cu un singur gand.

MARIANA MARIN

……………….

A GLASS ROD

Every morning she’d wake up with only one thought.
She lived like this for a long time.
She’d hit her memory with a glass rod.
She’d boil it.
She’d show it to everyone, hoping someone will say:
behold the glorious victory of the weak
and the only bird will freeze in its sounding flight …
She painted her hands, her face, her Sundays.
In winter she refused to eat salad.
She overturned the library books until they began
to suffer.
She had read about the disease when she was 17
(it seemed like a chance).
About love as well.
Her mania:
a sailing ship in the middle of the room.
Her madness:
crows, as many crows as possible
and the famous statue in the square.
Her perversion:
the whimper of a suicidal tap.
Her madness:
a snow war.

They lived like this for a long, long, long time.
And every morning she’d wake up with only one thought.

traducere, Maria Magdalena Biela