Brian Docherty

World View

Boredom rusts my mouth, shrivels my tongue.
The food never varies; I mark off my days
by the menu I have never been offered.
The supplements announce who is on duty.

I can smell my own body, the drains,
boiled vegetables, leather and dogs.
The man who hung himself 20 meals ago is
still with us, a wreath of quicklime.

My skin, my clothes, this floor, these walls, are
all I have touched for too long.
A book, a woman’s skin, a glass of wine, are
things I have given up longing for.

All night I hear men moaning, pipes banging,
lorries and trains in the distance.
If I had a watch, I could set it by them. In
the early hours they stop for a while.

The high window is a wonky camera
framing birds, clouds, kites, planes.
I never see other people except through
the smoky mirror of memory.

Simona Elisabeta Catana

Brian Docherty

Perspectiva asupra lumii

Plictiseala imi rugineste gura, imi usuca limba.
Mancarea nu variaza niciodata; imi bifez zilele
langa meniul care nu mi-a fost niciodata oferit.
Suplimentul alimentar indica cine este de serviciu.

Simt mirosul propriului meu corp, al canalului de scurgere,
al legumelor fierte, al pielii si al cainilor.
Barbatul care s-a spanzurat acum 20 de mese este
inca printre noi, o coroana de var nestins.

Pielea mea, hainele mele, aceasta podea, acesti pereti sunt
singurele lucruri pe care le-am atins de prea multa vreme.
O carte, pielea unei femei, un pahar de vin sunt
lucrurile pe care am renuntat sa mi le mai doresc.


Toata noaptea aud barbati gemand, tevi izbite,
camioane si trenuri aflate la distanta.
Daca as avea un ceas, l-as putea fixa in functie de ei.
La primele ore, ei mai inceteaza o vreme.

Fereastra inalta este un aparat de fotografiat subred
ce incadreaza pasari, nori, zmei si avioane.
Nu vad niciodata alti oameni decat prin
oglinda fumurie a memoriei.