DREPTUL CENUSII / THE RIGHT OF ASH

POSTED IN Mariana January 29, 2022

DREPTUL CENUSII / THE RIGHT OF ASH

Capitulez in fata atlazurilor mele fine,
precum pardosul la sange existenta onorabila in mers teapan pe strada
Cine insa ar mai putea descrie tristetea dictatorului
care trezindu-se intr-o dimineata in fata ghilotinei
isi sopteste ingrozit:- Aceasta nu e cu putinta!
si mai tarziu, spaima din ochii supusilor: era dulce otrava…

Sunt atat de batrana,
incat evenimentele ma ocolesc cu o precizie dubioasa.
Ghemuita intr-un fotoliu,
degeaba ma mai mir: – De peste douazeci de ani
gustul ceaiului este altul…
Vedeti, parabola isi macina zi de zi dintii
intre doua franghii egale
desi – nici vorba!- noi visam cum nu se poate mai bine
in malul gros din fereastra.

Cine insa ar mai putea descrie o duminica neagra,
in care dreptul cenusii ar fi doar un cuvant
peste care s-ar aseza in tacere februarie
(iar ceasurile s-ar rusina “de prea multa apropiere”)
O, cine s-ar mai incumeta…

Dar ce sa cautam noi aici, vesele cititor!
Drumul nostru este inchis
si ar fi trebuit sa invatam pana acum
ca orice groapa comuna isi are hazul ei…

MARIANA MARIN

………………

THE RIGH OF ASH

I surrender to my fine atlases,
like the panther to blood the honorable existence in a stiff walk on the street
But who else could describe the sadness of the dictator
who, waking up one morning in front of the guillotine,
whispers to himself in horror: – That’s not possible!
and later, the terror in subjects’ eyes: it was sweet the poison …

I’m so old
that the events are bypassing me with a dubious accuracy.
Curled up in an armchair,
I wonder in vain:- For over twenty years
the taste of the tea is different …
You see, the parable grinds its teeth day after day
between two equal ropes
although – no way! – we were dreaming as best as possible
in the thick mud of the window.

But who could describe a black Sunday,
in which the right of ash would be just a word
over which February would sit in silence
(and the clocks would be ashamed of “too much closeness”)
Oh, who else would dare …

But what are we looking for here, happy reader!
Our road is closed
and we should have learned by now
that any common pit has its own fun …

traducere, M. M. Biela