Poeme de Ionuţ Caragea traduse în enleză de Ioana Tirtirău

 

Disconnect

and if the server crashed
would I still be a poet?
and if the Internet crashed suddenly
in the whole wide world
who’s going to ever hear of me?

I would like a law
to forbid poetry in public
to have to go in specially designed places
with a pencil and a piece of paper
to write only for myself
as if my poem were
an engagement ring
a vow for love

I’ve been hurting my soul
on a piece of paper
in a puddle of words
you call it clichee
a hole
or a whole lot of nothing

while poetry is
a crosswalk
between life and death

or a wild boar chased by bullets
in a pristine forest

My writing is not
a simple pastime
but a dedication for God
Who sometimes puts his palm
on your forehead
Woman

even if Life is a hospital
where people treat you
with drops of Indifference
while Death counts souls

if the Internet crashed
I would walk barefeet in the dust
to feel the cold body of my ancestors

or I would shave my head
so that nobody notices
how beautifully it snows

I would stop this talking
(a whole lot of nothing)
and I would kick you
where it hurts the most
to prove you
how much I love you

I was born on Google
everybody knows
and I endlessly seek
a place
to confess


Poet Talk and the Polyglot Clock

The Clock spoke three languages
Universally used
It spoke all three together
Without mistake
The Poet spoke but one
One the Clock could not understand
One that was born
Before the clock became a clock
Before the hours became hours
Before the minutes became minutes
Before the seconds became seconds

One day the Clock stopped
Determined to learn
But the Poet’s language was long gone ahead
Beyond hours, beyond minutes
Beyond seconds
Beyond any expectations

You stopped for nothing Clock
For nothing


Surviving The Game

time…
its hands never tremble
it is slowly passing its scalpel on our faces
like a serial killer in love with its art
only my hands tremble
when I try to shave
I always say to myself
today I have to be more beautiful
perhaps I will meet the sublime
I have been wearing the same clothing
for a lifetime my word
I walk the streets laughing
perhaps I will disappear in this clatter
and time will lose me from sight
yet people turn back to their homes
I am left alone facing the destiny
my hands tremble with love
I am surviving the game where people hide
after each sunset my hands are trembling
a bow to you
who taught me to live by the rule
everything reduces to the one and only clothing
in which I was born I live I die

translations – Ioana Tirtirău
 

 

Sursa: Ionuţ Caragea, 2017