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.

Ileana Botescu-Sireteanu

Ruth O’Callaghan

Cronica

…In unele zile un plescait de vasle
Taie luciul apei.

Iar o dorinta se-ncreteste-n cerc si vine catre noi
Pierzandu-se incet in cercuri tot mai mari si sterse,

Precum istoria, odinioara-atat de conturata
Ce-acum paleste sub povara indoielii

Sub asternutul timpului si al povestilor rostite iar si iar,
Zvonuri chinezesti,

Ce-atarna in vazduh, dand un nou sens dinastiilor,
Imperiilor, arta cartografierii

A inceput pe locul de joaca unde copiii
Coloreaza-n rosu si albastru, facand patratele triunghiuri

In carti de colorat ieftine,
Atat de absorbiti de lucrul lor marunt

Incat vaslasul nevazut-
Doar nu l-ati dat uitarii?-

Ia cotitura
Acolo unde salciile matura apa

Iar umbrele de sub copaci raman nemiscate
valatucii de ceata se desfac

precum manecile vanzatoarelor intinzandu-se
in stramtoarea zilei.