George Szirtes - Body Songs

1.Back

Slipping his hand down her back he felt her heat,
As creaturely as his own but far better. Her head
Was cool to the touch. Where did they meet,
These two conditions? What was mid-point here?
It was where the nature of creatureliness resided,
Half way between acute desire and fear.

2.Skull

You feel the bones of the face. It is like weeping.
Do animals weep? She seemed to be buoyed
On an enormous reservoir of tears. Her sleeping
Contained time in a cupping of hands,
A time that was to be lamented but enjoyed
In environments of working cells and glands.

3.Leg

Your leg, it seems nothing. Your eyes count
For little. Your organs are obscure, your limbs
Anonymous. Your bodily fluids don’t amount
To a hill of beans, but you are lost in awe
Of the poor rags that live in your dreams
Where desire is king and obeys no law.

4.Neck

The delicate architecture of the neck demands
Study. One needs a certain scholarly devotion
To appreciate its fragility refined into bands
Of necklace, light, and shadow. The very notion
Of its existence has a faintly oriental
Exotic flavour that is not merely accidental.

5.Skin

Skin is enough to send a rhyme-scheme skew-whiff.
Could one but fix a voltmeter to the small bones
Of the wrist it would read off the scale. It is as if
There were convulsions in the circuit. The soles
Of the feet are mother-boards for the stones
We must rush across as if they were hot coals.

6.Heart

What is it burns us up? Let me feel your temple.
Is it your heart, my small and wonderful source
Of delight? My own organ is a poor example
Of the organ maker’s art. My chest wheezes
With its burden, my blood stutters along its course,
My genes whisper lamentable inherited diseases.

7.Aging

The dynamics of aging: a gust of wind
On the surface of the pond. What creatures
Live down there? Deep down perhaps, blind
Animalculae are gathering beneath a rock
Among flamboyant fish with macabre features
Registering various states of shock.

8.Waist

Slenderest. The point at which you break
Into two is where I most like to hold
You together. It is there I feel the ache
Of your otherness, before you expand
Above and below into that blithe controlled
Delight that makes my own flesh stretch and stand.

9.Belly

The dome of the world. Its peculiar swelling
Presents a purely lascivious curve
At tension with itself, smelling
Vaguely of perfume and earth. It is
The last of the good times, the reserve
Of the well fed once gorged on vanities.

10.Hand

Almost another independent being
Stuck to your wrist. I hold it as it grows
Flowers and closes on whatever it’s carrying.
I have wandered down its alleyways
From which everything else follows
That finger points to and palm weighs.

George Szirtes - Cantarea trupului

1.Curbura spatelui

El luneca mana pe spatele ei. Ii simte caldura.
Ca a lui; si totusi altfel: placuta.
Capul ei e rece la atingere. Oare unde se intalnesc
caldul si recele? Unde este punctul culminant?
- E acolo unde salasluieste natura firii,
la mijloc intre tare dor si teama.

2.Craniul

Cand pipai osisoarele fetei e ca atunci cand plangi.
Oare animalele plang?
Parea purtata de o imensa mare de lacrimi.
Somnul ei aduna timpul in causul palmelor,
- un timp ce-avea sa fie plans
desi petrecut in puls de glande si celule.

3.Piciorul

Piciorul tau - ai zice ca nimic. Ochii - abia-abia.
Organele - ascunse, membrele - nestiute.
Fluidele, secretiile - fleacuri.
Si, totusi, cazi in extaz
in fata nimicurilor ce iti anima visurile,
unde pofta e rege, iar lege nu e.

4.Gatul

Delicata alcatuire a gatului se cere studiata.
E nevoie de erudita consacrare
ca sa-i percepi fina fragilitate in linia colierului.
In umbra si lumina.
Chiar si ideea existentei lui are o tenta orientala,
exotica, ce nu e intamplatoare.

5.Tegumentul

Tegumentul ajunge ca sa dea rima peste cap.
Daca am putea fixa voltmetrul pe incheietura fina,
acul ar exceda scala.
Ca si cum ar fi spasme in circuit.
Iar talpile sunt placi de baza pentru dalele
pe care alergam de parca-ar fi taciuni.

6.Inima

Ce oare ne consuma? Pot sa iti pipai tampla?
Oare inima ta e tainicul izvor al incantarii mele?
- A mea e o palida opera a creatorului.
Pieptul imi vibreaza de durerea ei,
tremura sangele cand o petrece,
iar genele se tanguie de mostenite maladii.

7.Imbatranirea

Imbatranirea?!
- Rafala de vant pe oglinda lacului.
Ce creaturi traiesc acolo, in adanc?
Poate, oarbe Animalculae se aduna sub o piatra,
printre pesti multicolori cu aer macabru,
şi inscriu felurite stari de soc.

8.Talia

Ca trasa prin inel. Acolo unde te frangi in doua
imi tare place a te prinde laolalta.
Dar tot acolo simt si durerea ca esti alta,
- unde forma ta creste si deasupra, si dedesubt
intr-o stapanita delectare
ce carnea-mi intareste si inalta.

9.Pantecele

Bolta a lumii. Aleasa lui curbura
are puritatea lasciva a arcului
in joc cu el insusi,
- vaga exalare de parfum si pamant.
Doar el a ramas din vremurile bune, fantana
candva plina si iar plinita de desertaciuni.

10.Mana

Aproape aievea alt cineva, prins de incheietura.
Eu o tin; ea creste, se deschide
si apuca ceea ce poarta.
Am urmat cararile ei
pe care toate celelalte lucruri
sunt de deget aratate, de palma cantarite.
 

Cu multumiri Irinei Du Plessis pentru sugestiile utile.

Translated by Valentina-Monica Barba