IOANA IERONIM

Fragments


I can see a road leaving the village,
going across the field
serpentine
still further into fine paths
losing itself in the woods

flocks of sheep
having come down from the mountains
slowly advance in rows
on hill after hill

my train glides at the same pace

it has started snowing slowly
in my native land -
flakes as huge as they were
at the beginning

I’ve been trying to understand
what these icons are saying,
why their simple untranslatable tune
touches so deeply

is this the way we are
advancing toward one another

horizon of some Truth,
coming ever nearer
never arriving?

*

we must have met before, Miss,
do you remember where it might have been?

I do not think so – – but yes, o yes
we may have been those cool stones
set side by side on velvet
in Alladin’s cave

… or two horses galloping in the wind
on the continent of Gondwana

yet I remember, I think I do
it was in London one evening
or was it Bucharest still, Washington, Paris,
Vienna, Prague, Barcelona, Istanbul
Galway, New York?
it was cloudy as I recall
and a big merry crowd indoors

no-no, you may still keep in mind
that nest of hidden embers -
we had been lost from our caravans,
it was at sunset
shadows were growing hungry tongues and…

I rather believe that we had been up early
it was the day of departure -
our hair was glistening
like dew-laden cobwebs in a vineyard,
ripening and golden

do you mean, when we had not yet been
thrown down from the Garden?

no
listen, now I think I really know
we were two miraculous serpents
chasing at one another
joyous in the world’s first ocean
the sun was melting in the water
at high noon
God Himself stood speechless
with the beauty of their motion

let me tell you, it must have been when we read
“I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till…” - could you imagine such
mandatory reading?

yeah, in such a place, at such time…

on that day, as you may recall, our hearts were smitten
and then of course we forgot

I say, Miss, we must have met before

you know, these things…

*

Wading in a gauze of words
up to our knees

entangled in lacy lines

like stones of Mesopotamia
that shed their light
in the dark
of a closed museum

*

Pacing the long trail of parchment
with freshly written rows
still wet

coming toward one another
along written lines that show the way

until we are here
under the horns of the moon
and words of several languages
fall vertical
heavy

and our bare hands may feel the edge
where we were torn apart
at the time
when not all things had been named yet.

One day we may be able to write
some of these names of things, forgotten
or hardly ever known

words
that could not be heard in the beginning
or have hardly been uttered
since

Elena Raluca Nebunoiu

Ioana Ieronim
 

Fragmente

Vad un drum care porneste din sat,
merge de-a lungul campiei
serpuieste
si se desparte in cararui
pierzandu-se in padure

turme de oi
ce abia au coborat din munti
avanseaza lent in siruri,
deal dupa deal

trenul meu aluneca in acelasi ritm

a inceput sa ninga lin
in tara mea de bastina –
cu fulgi imensi cum erau
la inceput

am tot incercat sa inteleg
ce spun aceste icoane,
de ce melodia lor simpla, imposibil de tradus
atinge atat de adanc

oare asa avansam noi
unul inspre celalalt

orizont al vreunui Adevar,
apropiindu-se mereu
fara sa ajunga vreodata?

*

Trebuie ca ne-am mai intalnit, Domnisoara,
va amintiti unde?

Nu cred—sau...ba da
poate ca eram acele pietre racoroase
asezate una langa alta pe catifeaua
din pestera lui Ali Baba

...sau doi cai galopand in vant
pe continentul Gondwana

totusi imi amintesc, sau asa cred,
era in Londra intr-o seara
sau era tot in Bucuresti, sau Washington, Paris,
Viena, Praga, Barcelona, Istanbul
Galway, New York?
era innorat, din cate-mi amintesc
si inauntru era o multime vesela

nu-nu, poate tineti minte
acel cuib de taciuni ascunsi –
ne pierduseram de caravanele noastre,
era la asfintit
umbrele aveau limbi flamande si...

mai degraba cred ca ne treziseram devreme
- era ziua plecarii –
parul ne stralucea
asemeni panzei de paianjen inrourate din via
coapta si aurie

vrei sa spui, cand nu fuseseram inca
alungati din Gradina?

nu, asculta-ma, cred ca acum stiu
eram doi serpi miraculosi
urmarindu-se unul pe altul
fericiti in primul ocean al lumii
- soarele se topea in apa
in miezul zilei
Dumnezeu Insusi era impietrit
de frumusetea miscarilor lor

iti spun eu, era probabil cand citeam
“Ma intreb, pe cuvant, ce faceam noi doi
pana sa...” – iti poti imagina asemenea
lectura obligatorie?

da, in asemenea loc, asemenea timp...

in acea zi, poate iti amintesti, inimile ne erau coplesite de iubire
si apoi bineinteles am uitat

vedeti, Domnisoara, trebuie ca ne-am mai intalnit

stiti, lucrurile acestea…

*

Ne afundam pana la genunchi
intr-o tesatura de cuvinte
ne incurcam in fraze dantelate

ca statuile din Mesopotamia
care lumineaza
in intunericul
unui muzeu inchis

*

Pasind pe cararea lunga de pargament
cu randuri proaspat scrise
inca ude

venind unul inspre celalalt
de-a lungul versurilor care ne arata calea

pana cand ajungem aici
sub coarnele lunii
si cuvinte din mai multe limbi
cad vertical
grele

si mainile noastre goale ating marginea
unde am fost despartiti
in momentul
cand nu toate lucrurile fusesera inca numite.

Poate ca intr-o zi vom putea scrie
unele dintre aceste denumiri, uitate
sau inca necunoscute

cuvinte
care nu puteau fi auzite la inceput
sau inca nepronuntate
de atunci