Mary MacRae

Gannet

This is what I came to look for
from the rocks at the very tip
of St David’s Head, this bird,
this gannet, so white it reflects the light
from far out on the open sea,
one continuous line of body
aimed towards
the questing head and sharp beak,
its whole being flowing forward
like Braque’s bird, bleached
and flying over the bay,
back to Grassholm.
Suppose I can be re-born
into that frame, what might I find
in the huge plunge seaward,
in the crash of entry, the long
descent to semi-darkness?
What fish emerge with?

Roxana Mandrican

Mary MacRae

Gasca de mare

Pe ea doream s-o vad
De pe-acest varf stancos
Al Sfantului David, aceasta pasare,
Aceasta gasca, atat de alba
c-o poti zari din larg, stralucitoare,
corpul ei o linie continua
capu-i iscoditor, si ciocul ascutit,
pluteste in aval
ca pasarea lui Braque, imaculata
luandu-si zborul peste golf,
spre Grassholm.
De as putea renaste
In al ei trup, ce oare as gasi
In saltu-mi catre mare,
Impactul scufundarii,
Lunga descindere in semi-intuneric
Cu ce prada m-as alege?