Merryn Williams

My Cousin

She came here-not to rest-to sweep the stairs and
empty chamber pots. The gilded chairs
still stand here, the enormous mirrors throw
my face back as they did hers, aeons ago.
Down these plush corridors she moved, her feet
not echoing - dusting, leaving all things neat.
Somewhere her midget room, a great way up
these stairs. Invisible beneath her cap
to Bournemouth's guests, but I now who she was; my flesh, my blood, thrown early from the nest.
A small skimped woman when she was alive,
all siblings lost, unmatched at forty-five.
No trace, not one. Still stands the Grand Hotel
but now she rests. Somewhere in Boumemouth still.

Florentina Yvonne Penciu

Merryn Williams

Verisoara mea (in traducere)

Ea a venit aici - nu sa se odihneasca - sa mature scarile si
goalele oale de noapte. Scaunele aurite
inca mai sunt aici, enormele oglinzi ma
fac sa privesc in urma asa cum au facut-o si pe ea, cu epoci in urma.
In josul acestor coridoare de plus se misca ea, picioarele ei
nefacand ecou - stergand praful, lasand toate lucrurile in ordine.
Undeva camaruta ei, sus de tot pe
scarile acestea. Invizibila sub boneta ei
pentru oaspetii veniti la Bournemouth, dar eu stiu cine era ea; carnea mea, sangele meu,
azvarlite devreme din cuib.
O micuta femeie slabuta pe cand era in viata,
ramasa fara frati si surori, ajunsa la patruzeci si cinci de ani fara a se fi casatorit.
Niciun indiciu, nici macar unul. Inca mai este Grand Hotel
dar acum ea se odihneste. Undeva tot in Boumemouth.