Ruth O’Callaghan

Chronicle

...On some days a plash of oars
breaks the sleek of water

and a ripple will rim towards us
eddying outwards in ever fainter circles

as history, once so delineated,
pales into uncertainty

under layers of time, of stories, told,
re-told, Chinese whispers

that hang in the air, re-defining dynasties,
empires, the cartographers’ art

begun in playgrounds where children edge
blues and reds, making squares triangles

in cheap colouring books,
so occupied with such small tasks

that the unseen oarsman
—had you forgotten him?—

rounds the bend while beyond,
where willows sweep the water

and shadows under trees remain motionless,
hanks of mist unravel

like sleeves of shop girls reaching out
in the narrowing of the day.

Eliza Pintilie

Ruth O’Callaghan

Cronica

...In unele zile un plescait de vasle
taie lustrul apei

si o unda ne impresoara
invartejindu-se in cercuri tot mai largi

precum istoria, candva atat de conturata,
se pierde in incertitudine

sub straturile timpului, povestilor, spuse,
respuse, soapte in chineza

care plutesc in eter, redefinind dinastii,
imperii, arta cartografilor

inceputa in locurile de joaca unde copiii trag linii,
albastre si rosii, desenand patrate triunghiuri

in carti de colorat ieftine,
atat de ocupati cu treburi marunte

incat vaslasul nevazut
— ati uitat de el? —

parcurge meandrul in timp ce pe partea cealalta,
acolo unde salciile ating apa

si umbrele de sub copaci raman nemiscate,
se desfac fasii de ceata

ca manecile vanzatoarelor ce se intind
in faptul serii.