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.

Eliza Ghitulescu

Gabriel Griffin

JELIREA UNUI IMIGRANT ILEGAL

Luna se ascunde, dar pescarii
sunt obisnuiti cu asta si cu cantecul marii,
cu aria plaselor. Puntile
argintate cu strofe marine,
doimile si trilurile pestilor
amutiti in repertorii de gheata.

Ceva nu a cantat si, incovoiat
in plasa, a cazut infundat pe punte.
Urechile sale nu auzeau notele, ochii
ii erau orbi la barbatii din jur,
in gat ii stateau vorbele
ce n-aveau sa fie auzite de nimeni.

Au lasat caracatita vicleana
sa alunece pe langa vapor, au uitat sa puna capat
avantului si salturilor platicilor.
Marea a gemut, pestii
au cantat fals, pescarusii cu trei degete
au zgariat aerul cu glasuri ca niste corzi frante.

Barbatii s-au dezmeticit, au lovit
lucrul care nu canta si care nu-si gasea vorbele
peste puntea suieratoare. Au dat inapoi marii
ceea ce era lipsit de speranta,
ceea n-avusese vreodata speranta.
Fara vorba, fara cant, fara rugaciune.

Dar zdrentele hainelor sale au plans. Marea
a lovit cu pumnii in vapor. Iar vantul s-a pornit
si a urlat pana in zori.