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 - Cantecele Trupului

1.Spatele

Mana-i aluneca pe spatele ei simtindu-i caldura,
Mestesugit ca si al lui dar mai bine parca.
Capul ei
Rece atingerii. Oare unde s-au intalnit,
Aceste doua conditii? Unde a fost jumatatea drumului?
Poate acolo unde salasuieste lumea creatiei,
La jumatate de drum intre patima si frica.

2.Teasta

Iti simti oasele fetei. Ca si cum ai plange.
Oare animalele plang? Ea era parca sprijinita
Pe un rezervor enorm de lacrimi. Somnu-i
cuprindea timpul in causul palmelor,
Un timp al elegiei dar plin de savoare
In medii de celule active si glande.

3.Piciorul

Piciorul tau, nu e nimic. Ochii tai
Conteaza
Putin. Organele iti sunt obscure, madularele
Anonime. Lichidele trupesti nu fac
cat un morman de fasole, dar esti pierdut in
neinsemnatatea
umbrelor firave din visele tale
Unde dorinta este Doamna nesupusa legii.

4.Gatul

Arhitectura delicata a gatului necesita
Studiu. E nevoie de devotament scolastic
Pentru a-i aprecia fragilitatea definita in panglicile
Colierului, lumina si umbra. Insasi existenta sa
are o vaga, exotica aroma orientala
nu numai intamplatoare.

5.Pielea

E suficienta pielea sa trimita un tipar sui.
De-ar putea cineva macar sa prinda un voltmetru de oscioarele
Incheieturii mainii ar depasi scala.
Ca si cum
Ar fii convulsii in circuit.Talpile
picioarelor sunt placa de baza a pietrelor
Peste care trebuie sa trecem repede ca peste carbuni incinsi.

6.Inima

Ce ne mistuie de tot? Lasa-ma sa-ti simt tampla.
Sa fie inima ta, micul meu izvor minunat
de desfatare? Organul meu e doar un exemplu slab
al mestesugului creatorului de organe. Pieptul imi
haraie
sub povara, sangele bolboroseste in curgerea sa,
Genele imi soptesc jalnic boli mostenite.

7.Imbatranirea

Dinamica imbatranirii: o rafala de vant
Deasupra unui iaz. Ce creaturi salasuiesc in acolo?
In adancuri poate, vietuitoare nevazatoare
Se aduna sub o stanca
Printre pestii viu colorati cu trasaturi macabre
Emanand diferite stari de soc.

8.Mijlocul

Cel mai subtirel. Acolo unde te rupi
In doua acolo imi place cel mai mult sa te tin
Acolo simt durerea
Diferentei tale, dinainte sa te imparti
Deasupra si dedesubt intr-o vesela controlata
Incantare ce-mi face carnea sa se intinda si sa sa tina.

9.Pantecul

Cupola lumii. Umflatura sa neobisnuita
Prezinta o arcuire de-a dreptul senzuala
Incordata cu sine, mirosind
Vag a parfum si pamant. Este
Ultima din vremurile bune, rezerva celui
Demult bine ghiftuit de vanitati.

10.Palma

Aproape o fiinta independenta
Lipita de incheietura ta. O tin cat creste
Flori si tine strans ceea ce duce.
Am colindat pe aleile sale
De unde toate celelalte urmeaza
Acel deget indica si palma cantareste.

Translated by Florentina Rahira Tinte