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 - Cantare Trupului

1.Spinare

Plimbandu-si mana pe spinarea ei ii simtii caldura/ fierbinteala,
La fel de carnala ca a sa, dar mult mai bine. Capul ei
Era moale la atingere. Unde se intalnisera aceste doua entitati?
Care era calea de mijloc? Aici a incoltit samanta vietii,
La limta dintre dorinta acuta si teama.

2.Craniu

Simti oasele fetei. E la fel ca plansul.
Animalele plang? Parea alimentata
de un imens rezervor de lacrimi. Somnul ei
Inchidea timpul in causul palmelor,
Un timp ce avea sa fie regretat, dar trait
In lumea celulelor neobosite si a glandelor.

3.Picior

Piciorul tau nu inseamna nimic. Ochii tai nu au
Nicio valoare. Organele tale sunt obscure, iar madularele-ti
Anonime. Fluidele din trupul tau nu fac cat o ceapa degerata,
Dar tu esti mut de uimire in fata bietelor zdrente ce-ti populeaza
Visele in care dorinta atotputernica nu cunoaste limita.

4.Gat

Delicata arhitectura a gatului se cere studiata.
Ai nevoie de o anume inclinatie de savant
Ca sa-i poti aprecia fragilitatea rafinata intr-un manunchi
De coliere, lumini si umbre. Ideea insasi a existentei sale
Are o subtila mireasma orientala, nu tocmai intamplatoare.

5.Piele

Pielea singura poate alcatui o rima imperfect.
De-am putea pune un un voltmetru la oscioarele
De la incheietura mainii, am putea citii indicele.
E ca si cum circuitul ar avea convulsii. Talpile
Sunt temelia. Trebuie s-o luam din loc
de parca am sta pe carbuni incinsi.

7.Batranetea

Ritmul imbatranirii: o rafala de vant
Pe suprafata helesteului. Ce vietati traiesc acolo jos?
In adancuri, probabil, creaturi oarbe se aduna sub o stanca
Printre pesti viu colorati cu figure macabre
Inregistrand treptat gradele socului.

8.Talia

Cea mai mladioasa. Punctul in care te frangi in doua
Este locul in care imi place cel mai mult sa te cuprind.
Acolo iti simt durera celeilalte naturi, inainte de a incepe
Sa te largesti deasupra si dedesubt in acea incantare perfect
Stapanita ce-mi face propria carne sa se intinda si sa incremeneasca.

9.Pantecul

Catedrala omenirii. Umflatura-i aparte
Are o unduire pur lasciva in conflict
Cu ea insasi, mirosind vag a parfum si pamant.
Este ramasita vremurilor bune, rezerva bine hranita
Candva impanata de vanitati.

10.Mana

Aproape o fiinta independenta fixate de incheietura
O tin, din ea rasar flori si inchide tot ce culege
Am hoinarit pe cararile ei de unde
Toate drumurile pornesc.
Degetele- indicatoare, iar palmele- talgere.

Translated by Roxana Mandrican