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.

Teofana Trapcea

Gabriel Griffin

Elegie pentru un emigrant ilegal

Nu e luna, dar pescarii

sunt obisnuiti cu asta si cu cantecul marii,

cu sunetul navoadelor. Puntile

inspumate de versurile marii,

doimile si tripletele pestilor

amutiti de repertoriul de gheata.

Ceva n-a cantat, indoit

in plasa, a cazut cu o bufnitura

peste bord. N-a auzit notele, ochii-i

n-au vazut barbatii din jur,

s-a inecat cu cuvinte

pe care nimeni n-avea sa le auza.

Au lasat caracatita lunecoasa

sa se tarasca spre marginea vasului,

au uitat sa opreasca salturile platicilor.

Marea a mugit, pestii au inceput

sa cante fals, pescarusii cenusii

au scos tipete precum corzile rupte.

Oamenii au iesit din impietrire,

au aruncat cu zgomot ce nu canta,

ce n-avea glas, peste puntea suieratoare,

au redat marii ce n-avusese niciodata speranta, fara cuvinte,

vreun imn sau vreo rugaciune.

Dar zdrentele hainelor au strigat. Marea

a batut cu pumnii in barca. Vantul s-a pornit mai tare

si a urlat pana in zori.