Stella Davis

After burying the monster

After burying the monster
we cannot return home.
We follow the geese skeining south
to the quiet docks, where lie in hulk
our ships once seaworthy.

They let loose a flickering hope.
Who is to say we shan't set sail again, rise
to the occasion as the tide turns? There
are coasts where we never landed: those
secretive shores.

A long time since, we turned on our neighbours,
rending their comfort by way of a sacrifice. "Give
of your best" was the rule.
We obeyed it, didn't we?
All those young men.

Now when a deceit of lapwings ravages the
green corn, it scarcely seems to matter.
Surprising, how long we are able
to eke a living; how many years
since we ate red meat?

We went so far, in the steps of the monster.
But the dint wears away, the road unravels,
the flag we clung to lies shredded,
and we find we cannot bear
to return home.

Cristina Nistor

Stella Davis

Dupa ce ingropam monstrul

Dupa ce ingropam monstrul
nu ne putem intoarce accasa.
Urmam stolurile de giste zburind spre sud
spre docurile tacute, unde zac pe ponton
corabiile noastre cindva zdravene.

Ne dau un licar de speranta.
Cine spune ca n-o sa ridicam iar pinzele, sa profitam
de-ocazie cind se-ntoarce mareea? Exista
tarimuri inca neatinse: acele
misterioase tarmuri.

De mult timp, ne-am napastuit vecinii.
le-am sfisiat si tihna ca pe-un sacrificiu. “Da
ce-ai mai bun” era comanda.
Noi ne-am supus, asa-i?
Toti acei barbati tineri.

Acum, cind o parere de nagiti face ravagii
in lanul crud, nici nu pare sa ne mai pese.
Surprinzator cit de mult timp sintem in stare
sa ne innadim viata; citi ani sa fie
de cind n-am mai pus gura pe carne rosie?

Am mers, pina acum, pe urmele monstrului.
Insa urma se pierde, cararea se desira,
steagul de care ne-agatam zace in zdrente,
si ne trezim ca nu ne induram
sa ne intoarcem acasa.