Carol Rumens

And If It Was

If it was only for you
all along, all the time, all the way,
and nothing was left of our brightest exchange
of brain-light and blood-sugar; if
it turned out to be just for the flirt and the flak, the great luck
when it worked, when we came, and I caught
the whiff of your sweat, like human sweat,
and your glow, saw your feathers and hair
flare like an Inca head-dress, though
no more than a match-flame, over and out, not catching
anyone’s fire but mine, any time but now,
would you forgive me, words?

Ruxandra Buluc

Carol Rumens

Si daca

Si daca ar depinde doar de tine
tot timpul, intru totul, cu totul,
si n-ar ramane nimic din al nostru troc miraculos
intre lumina mintii si agonia sangelui, daca
s-ar dovedi a fi doar un flirt si un flit, si totusi lozul cel mare
cand iese bine, cand terminam, si eu as simti
izul sudorii tale, ca sudoarea unui om,
si scanteierea ta, si ti-as vedea penele si parul
aprinzandu-se ca o coroana incasa, desi
n-ar fi decat flacara unui chibrit, stinsa intr-o clipa, fara sa aprinda
nici un foc decat al meu, niciodata decat acum,
m-ai putea ierta, tu, cuvantule?
 

Gwynedd
for Lidia Vianu

We went down to the strait;
We pulled up a grubby edge of the Atlantic
And chilled there in the mud-hole of winter.
We climbed a cloud and left our heads behind.
We took photos of a rainbow: it came out white.
We planted a dill forest.
We listened for the sound of churches singing in Welsh.
In the field at night I tried to pick up fallen washing
But only scrabbled with the hems of moon-shadows.

Gwynedd
pentru Lidia Vianu

Am coborat catre stramtoare;
Ne-am oprit pe o margine rapanoasa a Atlanticului
Si am inghetat acolo in miezul noroios al iernii.
Ne-am urcat pe un nor si ne-am pierdut mintile.
Am facut poze cu curcubeul: a iesit incolor.
Am plantat o padure de ierburi.
Am cautat sa auzim bisericile rasunand de cantece in velsa.
In camp, noaptea, am vrut sa culeg panze cazute,
Dar m-am ales doar cu cusaturile din ale lunii umbre.