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.

Cristina Stafie

Anne Stewart
 

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Ai invatat sa citesti, cu mult inainte sa iti dai seama,
Acele semne care iti spuneau sa te opresti si sa asculti -
Pret de o secunda, o avertizare sa eviti privirea feroce a unui sykesean
Care te crede vinovat, tradator si de neiertat.

Ea era precauta, incercand mereu sa fie corecta,
Judecadu-ti succesele cu o doza de suspiciune;
Buna purtare garantandu-ti succesul rareori
Daca esti atat de incapatanat, atat de arrogant si permisiv cu tine insuti.

Ai ajuns sa recunosti sunetul unei agrafe sub par;
Sa stii ca buzele incretite nu se lasa nicicand sarutate.
Cum teama esecului incearca sa iti puna piedici in cautarea
A ceea ce iti lipseste.