IOANA IERONIM

Translating The Tempest


wading across these golden waters of life

measuring the innocence and poetry,
the earth and color of my Romanian mother tongue
against Great Will

discovering that not all the energy of my language
has been used and wasted in silence, in cruelty,
in vain endeavours, in the exercise of survival
through ages of wars
of a death-in-life mode
and timeless shepherds
with their flutes

not all of it forgotten in wooden coffins of totalitarianism
not all of it burned on pyres
not all of it destroyed in the self-hatred of the abused
not all of it worn out while people have just rolled their sleeves
and built
and lost
and built
hope
again

*

These words have been kept warm between my palms
these words have slept under my cheek
these words have just stumbled down from a nomad wagon
and they pretend they’ve never left

these words I have kept at my bosom like a farmer’s woman,
when they’re hungry they can be breast-fed then and there
these words entangled my ankles when I needed to be free
these words reared with passion muted like a galloping steed
halted in mid-day

these words have been uttered under gilt stucco ceilings of power
these words streamed in the wind in my hair with flowers of the field
these words have mourned over shattered walls and lives
these words used to hunt and entrap and kill once, these words have caressed
with a touch lighter than spider legs on water
these words have designed wreaths for the glory of brothers-and-sisters-in-arms
these words have tumbled by my side laughing and frightened and shy
these words have had their seven lean years and their fat years, who counts
these words have touched the poison of love and death with unsuspecting tongues
these words cling and tremble like ivy
they do not open their eyes when you want
they do not close their eyes when needed
they do not remember when they are asked
these words have doubted and hated and forgotten
and loved and forgotten and loved
these words have just been unwound from around my waist
these words are a prayer these words are a shame

words are the whole of me to you,
words are the whole of you to me
words, less than the humblest seashell disintegrating into sand

but words they are
the best that there is
and the worst
the seed of our resilient kind


these words have been rocked in my arms
these words have been taught how to be
playful and bitter-sweet, free and captive and elated

these words I have unclasped from my Sunday peplum
before sending them to you
 

Alina Olimpia Gaci Miron

Ioana Ieronim
 

Traducand "Furtuna"

trecand leganat peste aceste mari aurii ale vietii
masurand inocentia si poezia,
pamantul si culoarea limbii mele materne: romana
contrar Marelui Will

-descoperind ca nu intreaga energie a limbii mele
a fost folosita si irosita in liniste, in cruzime,
in stradanii vanitoase, in exercitiul supravietuirii
prin veacuri de razboaie
intr-un fel de moarte-in-viata
-si pastori eterni
cu fluierele lor

nu-i totul uitat in sicrie de lemn ale totalitarismului
nu-i totul ars pe ruguri
nu-i totul distrus in ura de sine a celor abuzati
nu-i totul uzat in timp ce oamenii tocmai ce si-au suflecat manecile
si construit
si pierdut
si construit
spera!
din nou

*

Aceste cuvinte au stat la cald intre palmele mele
aceste cuvinte au dormit sub obrazul meu
aceste cuvinte tocmai ce-au cazut dintr-un vagon de nomazi
si pretind ca niciodata n-au fost plecate

aceste cuvinte pe care le-am tinut la san precum sotia unui fermier,
cand le e foame pot fi hraniti la san in acel moment chiar acolo
aceste cuvinte mi s-au incalcit pe la glezne cand simteam nevoia de a fi liber
aceste cuvinte crescute cu pasiune tacuta ca un armasar in galop
ce-a fost oprit in mijlocul zilei

aceste cuvinte au fost rostite sub tavane de putere aurite din stuc
aceste cuvinte revarsate-n vant in paru-mi plin de flori de camp
aceste cuvinte au jelit ziduri sfarmate si vieti
aceste cuvinte obisnuiau sa vaneze si sa prinda in capcana si sa omoare imediat, aceste cuvinte au mangaiat cu o atingere mai usoara decat picioruse de paianjen pea pa
aceste cuvinte au creat cununi pentru gloria fratilor si surorilor inarmati
aceste cuvinte au cazut alaturi de mine razand, speriate si sfioase
aceste cuvinte si-au avut cei sapte ani saraci si anii productive, cine tine seama
ca aceste cuvinte au atins otrava iubirii si mortii cu limbi increzatoare
aceste cuvinte se agata si tremura precum iedera
nu-si deschid ochii cand vrei
nu-si inchid ochii cand e nevoie
nu-si amintesc cand sunt intrebate
aceste cuvinte s-au indoit si au urat si au uitat
si au iubit si au uitat si au iubit
aceste cuvinte tocmai ce-au fost desfacute din jurul taliei mele
aceste cuvinte sunt o ruga aceste cuvinte sunt o rusine

cuvintele sunt toata fiinta mea pentru tine,
cuvintele sunt toata fiinta ta pentru mine
cuvinte, mai putine decat cea mai umila cochilie destramandu-se in nisip

dar sunt cuvinte
cele mai bune
si cele mai rele
-samanta neamului nostru optimist

aceste cuvinte au fost leganate in bratele mele
aceste cuvinte au fost invatate cum sa fie
jucause si dulci-acrisoare, libere si prizoniere si in culmea fericirii

aceste cuvinte au fost desfacute din peplumul meu de duminica
inainte sa ti le trimit