CAROL RUMENS

The Clear River

   ‘La speranza di pure revederti
M’abbandonova.’
                          Motetti, Montale

Here, we will never meet, but I’ll meet you there,
Beyond the bridge, pretending shamelessness,
There, where the clouded river again runs clear.

Your hand skimmed mine, quick migrant, passing where?
Then it was night and Italy and a press
Of words I had never met: I met you there.

Voices are not repeatable. That which the ear
Cherishes, vanishes. But, when we’ve ceased to guess
Its song, the river will sing, the line be clear.

We were never the eloquent kind; we muttered ‘Dear’
Like letters, formal, cheating its tendresse –
Nor will you say it once when I meet you there

But you will be near as my book, my pillow, near
As my mind. To face each other was to digress,
There by the river, clouded and unclear,

But now your eyes use mine, I believe you hear
My heart as it drives your blood. What matters less
Than here, where we’ve never met? I’ll meet you there,
There, oh my book of rivers, running clear.

Reliana Andra Craciun

Carol Rumens
 

Raul limpede

   ‘Speranta de a te revedea
Ma va abandona.’
                   Motetti, Montale


Aici nu ne vom intalni niciodata, dar te voi intalni acolo,
Dincolo de pod, prefacandu-ne ca nu avem rusine,
Acolo, unde rau-nvolburat curge limpede din nou.

Mana-ti a atins-o pe a mea, in treacat, incotro trecand?
Apoi fu noapte si Italia si o presa de cuvinte
Pe care niciodata nu le-am intalnit: te-am intalnit acolo.

Vocile nu se repeta. Ceea ce urechea pretuieste
Mai apoi dispare. Dar cand vom inceta cantecul
Sa-i mai ghicim, raul va canta, melodia va fi clara.

N-am fost nicicand genul elocvent; am mormait “Draga”
Ca in scrisori, formal, lipsindu-l de tandrete –
Nu-l vei rosti macar o data cand te voi intalni acolo.

Dar imi vei fi aproape precum cartea sau ca perna, aproape
Ca insasi mintea mea. A ne-nfrunta a fost a ne abate
Acolo langa raul involburat si tulbure.

Dar acum ochii-ti ii folosesc pe ai mei, cred ca-mi auzi
Inima cum iti pompeaza sangele. Ce conteaza mai putin
Ca acest loc, unde nicicand nu ne-am intalnit? Te voi intalni acolo,
Acolo, o, cartea mea de rauri, curgand limpezi.