HILARY ELFICK

The return

 

Beyond the olive grove the children shout ‘Hurry,
hurry, hurry!’ Felipe’s seen a streak of red race
between the poplars, and they stumble panting

up the stony hill. She takes the glass between her fingers,
holding the stem lightly under its etched bowl.
She did not know that he’d be back so soon.

She stands at the window while he drones on –
Madrid, Avila and the roads between, ‘slow,
after the first hour going down, and then those two

from Barcelona argued every point, the wine was
rubbish, then three papers tabled despite all that
I had said, they lost the stuff I’d sent them,

I told them I would never…’ Caught in the humid
windless sky the clouds make shapes of all
the welcomes planned but now too late, flowers,

candles and a paper chain, swallows hooking over
broken tiles, tossed shadows on a scuttle of old hens,
a lone, persistent cockerel-crow. Their children burst,

like intermittent light, through hanging, clattering
strings of bright green beads. Breathing deeply,
now she turns, and in a rare space opened through

their welcome, his fast stream of nervous words,
says ‘It is good you got here early. It is good
you made it back to see them here, so soon.

Roxana-Monica Mîndrican

Hilary Elfick
 

Intoarcerea

Dincolo de paduricea de maslini copii striga „mai repede,
mai repede!” Felipe zareste o fasie rosie
intre plopi, si se impiedica gafaind

urcand pe dealul stancos. Ea isi ia ochelarii intre degete,
tinad delicat ramele sub adancitura gravata.
Nu stia ca va sosi atat de curand.

Ea sta la fereastra in timp ce el strabate
Madridul, Avila, si drumul dintre ele, „incet,
dupa prima ora de coborat si apoi cei doi

din Barcelona in conflict la fiecare pas, vinul
a fost prost, si cele trei lucrari puse pe masa in ciuda
a tot ce spusesem, pierdusera ce le trimisesem,

le-am spus ca niciodata....” captivi pe un cer
umed si neclintit, norii ne ureaza parca
bun venit asa cum planuisem , dar e prea tarziu acum, flori

lumanari si o ghirlanda de hartie, se incovoaie peste
tiglele rupte, umbre rasucite pe cuibul unor gaini batrane,
un cocos singuratic, insitent. Copii lor ropotesc

asemeni luminii intermitente, printre sirurile atarnand,
de margaritari verzi stralucitori. Respirand adanc,
ea se intoarce acum, si in acest spatiu unic creat de

intalnirea lor, vorbeste repede emotionata,
„ce bine ca ai ajuns devreme. Ce bine
ca te-ai intors sa-i gasesti aici, atat de curand.”