Gabriel Griffin

Lament for an illegal immigrant

No moon, but fishermen

are used to that and the sea’s chanting,

the descant of the nets. The decks

silvered with sea verses,

the minims and trebles of fish

hushed into songbooks of ice.

Something didn’t sing, humped

in the net, thudding onto the deck.

Its ears heard no notes, its eyes

were blind to the men standing round,

its throat choked with words

that no-one would hear.

They let the sly octopus

sidle to the ship’s side, forgot to stop

the arch and leap of bream.

The sea moaned, the fish

slipped out of tune, the kittiwakes

hurled screeches like broken strings.

The men unfroze, thumped

what didn’t sing, what was lost for words, over the hissing deck. Tipped what had

no hope, had never had a hope,

back to the sea. No

word, no hymn, no prayer.

But the rags of its clothes cried. The sea

beat its fists on the boat. And the wind got up

and howled till dawn.

Silvia Neculae

Gabriel Griffin

Lamentare pentru un emigrant ilegal

Nu se vede luna, dar pescarii

sunt obisnuiti cu asta si marea ingana

melodia plaselor. Puntile

argintate cu versurile marii,

semitonurile si acutele pestilor

inabusite in cartea de cantece a ghetii.

Ceva nu a cantat, s-a zvarcolit

in plasa, batand in podea.

Urechile sale nu auzeau nici o nota, ochii sai erai orbi la oamenii care stateau imprejurul sau

in gatlejul sau se inecau cuvinte

pe care nimeni nu le putea auzi.

Ei lasau caracatita vicleana

sa se insinueze pe marginea navei, uitand sa puna capat

arcuirii si zbaterii platicilor.

Marea gemea, pestii

ieseau din ritm, tipete stridente

ale pescarusilor precum sforile rupte.

Barbatii au inceput sa se miste, au lovit

ceea ce nu canta, ceea ce isi pierduse cuvintele,

fu aruncat peste puntea suieratoare. Maturara ceea ce

nu avea si nu avusese niciodata vreo speranta,

inapoi in mare. Nici

un cuvant, nici o cantare, nici o rugaciune.

Dar ramasitele hainelor lor plangeau. Marea lovea cu pumnii in vas. Si vantul s-a ridicat

si a urlat pana in zori.