Carol Rumens

And If It Was

If it was only for you
all along, all the time, all the way,
and nothing was left of our brightest exchange
of brain-light and blood-sugar; if
it turned out to be just for the flirt and the flak, the great luck
when it worked, when we came, and I caught
the whiff of your sweat, like human sweat,
and your glow, saw your feathers and hair
flare like an Inca head-dress, though
no more than a match-flame, over and out, not catching
anyone’s fire but mine, any time but now,
would you forgive me, words?

Cristina Florea

Carol Rumens

Si daca a fost

Si daca a fost doar pentru voi,
dintotdeauna, mereu, de la inceput,
si n-a mai ramas nimic din cel mai inspirat schimb
de materie cenusie si glicemie; daca
s-a dovedit a fi doar ca motiv de lauda si de critica, marele noroc,
atunci cand functiona, cand am aparut noi, iar eu am captat
aroma sudorii voastre, asemenea sudorii umane,
si stralucirea din voi, am deslusit cum penele si parul va falfaiau precum o marama incasa, desi,
nu mai puternic decat flacara-pereche, pierduta, negasind
decat focul meu launtric, oricand, dar nu acum,
ma veti ierta oare, cuvinte?
 

Gwynedd
for Lidia Vianu

We went down to the strait;
We pulled up a grubby edge of the Atlantic
And chilled there in the mud-hole of winter.
We climbed a cloud and left our heads behind.
We took photos of a rainbow: it came out white.
We planted a dill forest.
We listened for the sound of churches singing in Welsh.
In the field at night I tried to pick up fallen washing
But only scrabbled with the hems of moon-shadows.

Gwynedd
Lidiei Vianu

Am ajuns pana la stramtoare;
Ne-am oprit la o margine imunda a Atlanticului
Si ne-am racorit in namolul iernatic.
Am pasit pe un nor si am lasat gandurile in urma.
Am fotografiat curcubeul: a iesit alb.
Am sadit o padure de marar.
Am ascultat bisericile rasunand in galeza.
Noaptea, pe camp, am incercat sa culegem rufe cazute,
Insa ne-am ales cu margini de umbre selenare.