HILARY ELFICK

The distance between them

 

All the way down they had walked like that,
in step, but sufficiently apart that no accident
could cause one to brush against the other.
He kept well towards the centre of the road.
She skirted the verge so that her feet
just missed the crunchy lumps of snow and ice,
and so avoided that awkward scrambling, slipping,
which might have made some kind of point.
It was a distance nicely managed by them both,
tacit, in a peculiarly English kind of way.

For all their incompatibility, they read each other
with an expert’s eye, even here in the Ober Rhone.
Their talk matched the way they walked,
common subjects – the different qualities of snow,
a strand of firs, the practice of landscaped forestry,
the siting of a cottage, even this cottage,
the sparseness of a single exposed birch.
Walks they had done, or hoped to do,
with other companions, other times.

There was little wind. Not enough to disturb
these giant trees, brave saplings shivering by the road.
A thickly masked sun only left the lightest shadows.
Even the chamois and the mountain goats had
slunk into the shades, leaving not a footprint.

Yes, it was cold, so they had to keep walking,
so cold that sipping from a Thermos had to be
a quick thing, gloves replaced, the awkwardness
of intimacy covered by the need to tuck it
in the rucksack and move apart, while she
slung it back on her shoulders and they could

set off again, a firm pace, making the space
between them clear, precisely measured so
no point appeared to have been made. This part
was easy. You could walk and walk and walk
and not think too much about where you left
the morning or what would happen when the
short day ended - the risk of a glass of gluhvein

before an over-cheerful nod and brightness
beside the heavy oak reception desk,
masked with gold baubles and old red ribbons.

It was how to end the day that kept their feet
stepping out, striding forward in the shadows,
keeping moving down the crispness of the road.

Roxana-Monica Mîndrican

Hilary Elfick
 

Distanta dintre ei

Au mers asa tot drumul,
in tandem*, dar pastrand o distanta
menita sa evite orice coliziune.
El mergea pe mijloc,
Ea evita marginea astfel incat pasii ei
sa ocoleasca bulgarii tari de zapada si gheata,
si astfel sa scape de acea stangace catarare, alunecare
ce ar fi avut un oarecare sens.
Era o distanta atent pastrata de amandoi,
tacit, intr-un mod tipic englezesc.

In ciuda incompatibilitatii lor, isi citeau in priviri
cu ochi de expert, chiar si aici in Ober Rhone.
Conversatia lor era in ton cu ritmul in care mergeau,
Subiecte commune- diverse aspecte al zapezii,
un sir de brazi, practicarea silviculturii peisagiste,
asezarea unei casute, chiar aceasta casuta,
un meastacan singuratic.
Drumetii pe care le-au facut sau sperau sa le faca,
cu alti prieteni, candva.

Vantul adia, dar nu suficient sa clinteasca
copacii acestia gigantici, puieti curajosi tremurand pe strada.
Un soare acoperit de nori reflecta doar umbre palide.
Chiar si si caprele si tapii de munte se furisasera
in umbra, fara a lasa vreo urma.

Da, era frig, si trebuia sa mearga,
atat de frig incat trebuia sa sorbi repede
din termos, sa-ti schimbi manusile, stanjeneala
intimitatii acoperita de nevoia de a-l vari
in rucsac in timp ce ea si-l ridica
inapoi pe umeri si puteau

sa porneasca din nou, cu pas hotarat , delimitand
spatiul dintre ei, cu precizie astfel incat
totul era fara sens. Partea asta
era usoara. Puteai sa tot mergi
fara sa te gandesti prea mult cum a trecut
dimineata, sau ce se va intampla
la sfarsitul acestei scurte zile – riscul unui pahar de vin fiert*

inainte de a schita zambind o incuviintare
in fata biroului masiv de stejar,
acoperit de ornament aurite si funde rosii.

Asta era finalul zilei ce le animase pasii
inaintand in umbra, fara oprire
de-a lungul drumului acoperit de zapada grunjoasa.

*»in tandem » means to do something, or to walk(in our context) together, or at the same time as someone else. It can be a synonym of « in step », given the fact that its meaning preserves the idea of symetry and simultaneity

*gluhvein (Glühwein, or “vin fiert” in Romanian) is a warm, spiced wine drink. It is usually prepared from red wine, heated and spiced with cinnamon sticks, vanilla pods, cloves, citrus and sugar. Almonds and raisins are often added to the Scandinavian version, though not to the German.