ANNE STEWART

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You learned to read, long before you were aware,
those signs that said you should shut down and listen –
only for a sigh, a tut; a warning to avoid the Sykesean glare
that held you guilty, traitorous and unforgiven.

She was deliberate, trying always to be fair,
judging your successes with a measure of suspicion;
good behaviour warranting good fortune being rare
with you so wilful – so arrogant and self-permitting.

You came to recognise the rustle of a collar under hair;
to know that pursed lips can have no thought of kissing.
How fear of losing tries to trip each step you dare
along the rope and timber bridge of what is missing.

Silvia Bratu

Anne Stewart
 

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A citi ai invatat, cu mult inainte de-a fi constient,
acele semne ce-ti spuneau sa taci si sa te pui pe ascultat –
sa prinzi un oftat dezaprobator; pentru-a scapa de o privire aspra-avertisment
ce te-nvinovatea, cum ca ai fi perfid, de neiertat.

Bine chibzuita si incercand mereu sa fie dreapta,
cu multa suspiciune iti cantarea greutatea succeselor;
arareori a te purta frumos era o garantie ca norocul te asteapta
cand erai atat de indaratnic – atat de arogant, delasator.

Poti recunoaste fosnetul gulerului sub al parului popas;
si stii ca buze dezaprobatoare nu pot gandi sa te sarute.
Dar si ca teama de a pierde e-o piedica in calea fiecarui pas
pe care-l faci, catre ce-ar trebui sa fie si nu e, pe o firava punte.