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.

Arina Lungu

Ruth O’Callaghan

Cronica

...Uneori un plescait de vasla
tulbura luciul apei

si o unda se indreapta spre noi
rotindu-se in cercuri din ce in ce mai vagi

asa cum istoria, candva asa de bine conturata,
se pierde in ambiguitati

sub valurile vremii, ale povestilor, spuse
si respuse, soapte chinezesti

care plutesc in aer, redefinind dinastii,
si imperii, arta cartografilor

inceputa pe terenurile de joaca unde copiii
deseneaza in rosu si albastru, hasureaza patrate si triunghiuri

in carti ieftine de colorat,
asa de preocupati de sarcinile lor marunte

incat vaslasul nevazut
– uitaseti deja de el? –

intoarce barca usor in timp ce in spate,
unde salciile matura apa

si umbrele de sub copaci raman nemiscate
fuioare de ceata se desfasoara

in ziua care se stinge
– ca manecile unor vanzatoare cu bratele intinse.