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.

Alexandra Sarbu

Anne Stewart
 

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Ai invatat sa citesti cu mult inainte sa fii constient,
acele semne ce spuneau sa taci si sa asculti –
doar pentru un suspin, o mustrare; o atentionare de a ocoli stralucirea sykesiana
care te socotea vinovat, tradator si neiertator.

Ea era atenta, incercand intotdeauna sa fie corecta,
judecandu-ti succesele cu o urma de suspiciune;
purtarea buna ce garanteaza o avere buna fiind rara
tu fiind atat de indaratnic – atat de arogant si impertinent/ insolent.

Ai ajuns sa recunosti fosnetul unui guler pe sub par;
sa stii ca buzele stranse nu pot avea vreun gand de a saruta.
Cum teama de a pierde incearca sa impiedice fiecare pas pe care-l faci
de-a lungul podului de lemn si funie a ceea ce lipseste.