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.

Oana Teodoroiu

Ruth O’Callaghan

Cronica

... Uneori, un pleoscait de vasle
frange netezimea apei;

o unda ne va inconjura
involburandu-se spre mal in cercuri tot mai sterse

la fel ca si istoria, pe vremuri bine conturata,
ce acum se stinge in incertitudine

sub straturi de timp, de povesti, spuse,
re-spuse, soapte in chineza

suspendate in aer, refacand dinastii,
imperii, arta cartografilor

a inceput pe terenul de joaca, unde copiii isi ascut
creioanele albastre si rosii, desenand patrate, triunghiuri

in carti ieftine de colorat,
atat de ocupati cu sarcini neinsemnate

iar vaslasul nevazut
- oare il uitaserati? -

ocoleste valul ce inca-i dedesubt,
acolo unde salciile matura apa,

iar umbrele de sub copaci raman inerte,
acolo unde valatuci de ceata se descalcesc

la fel cum se intind manecile vanzatoarelor
cand ziua se stramteaza tot mai mult.