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Lidia Vianu - Director of CTITC (CENTRE FOR THE TRANSLATION AND INTERPRETATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY TEXT), Bucharest University, Professor of Contemporary British Literature at the English Department of Bucharest University, Member of the Writers’ Union, Romania.

 

 
 
 
 
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CTITC

CENTRE FOR THE TRANSLATION AND INTERPRETATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY TEXT
CENTRUL PENTRU TRADUCEREA SI INTERPRETAREA TEXTULUI CONTEMPORAN

 

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 TRANSLATION CAFÉ 


 

MTTLC
MA Programme for the

TRANSLATION OF THE CONTEMPORARY LITERARY TEXT

Review of Contemporary Texts in Translation and E-Learning

 

 

 

 

Mary MacRae

Life Story


Night, and you step out into blackness, over
the side of the silent vessel, dreading that you
or your boots might slip and miss the rung, one
false move your last. Between above and below
you hang breathless, locked into history—
and this is what you chose, what you want.

No moon, no stars—though light’s not what you want—
only a sound like a thumb rubbing over
corrugated card as the men in your story
run down the ladder, loaded with kit. And you
feel rather than see, where the man below
you wavers, shifts his pack, now there’s no-one.

‘Dropped like a stone,’ I hear you say, ‘just one
splash and he’d gone.’ A small smile. You want
to cry, can’t quite believe the man below
the water wasn’t you, rehearse it over
and over again to convince yourself that you
survived the war, came home to tell your story.

It comes back to me now: hearing your story
I saw what you saw, clear as glass, how someone
plummeted down, but whether it was you,
or him, or someone else, I didn’t want
to know. Slid through a door that closed over
his head, from dark above to dark below.

Whoever that man was who plunged below,
if you’re the secret sharer of his story
then I’m yours. And the story isn’t over;
when you dropped like a stone you left me one
part short, however much I wanted—want—
to understand the plot and why I miss you.

Taller than life, younger than in death, you
come to visit me now from way below
the spirit-level of dream; won’t speak. I want
to ask if you can love me—that old story—
but don’t; put my arms around you one
last time and say, I love you, over and over.

I conjured you from below by telling your story
and then I saw our two stories are one:
can I want yours to end before mine’s over?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Teofana Cristina Trapcea

Mary MacRae


Povestea unei vieti

Noapte, pasesti in bezna peste
marginea vasului tacut, temandu-te
ca tu sau bocancii tai ar putea aluneca si rata
treapta iar prima miscare gresita va fi si ultima.
Atarni cu respiratia taiata,
nici sus nici jos , prins in istorie-
si asta este ce ai ales , ceea ce doresti.

Nu e luna , nici stele – desi nu-ti doresti lumina -
ci numai sunet , al degetului mare frecand
o vedere zimtata in timp ce barbatii din povestea ta
coboara in fuga scara, impovarati de ranita.
Mai degraba simti decat vezi, cum barbatul
de sub tine se clatina, isi muta sacul,
si dintr-o data nu mai e nimeni.

Te aud spunand "A cazut ca o piatra , un zgomot
si a disparut".Un zambet usor..
Vrei sa plangi, nu-ti vine a crede ca barbatul
de sub apa nu esti tu , iti tot repeti
ca sa te incredintezi ca ai scapat cu viata din razboi
si te-ai intors acasa ca sa-ti spui povestea.

Acum ca te aud povestind imi amintesc
ca am vazut ceea ce si tu ai vazut, limpede ca lumina zilei,
cum cineva a cazut ca plumbul dar fie ca
ai fost tu sau el sau altcineva, nu tineam sa stiu .
Alunecat printr-o usa care s-a inchis de-asupra capului
sau din negura de sus in negura de jos.

Oricine s-ar fi cufundat in valtoare
daca tu ii impartasesti in secret povestea
atunci eu o impartasesc pe a ta.Si povestea nu e gata;
cand ai cazut precum o piatra, m-ai lasat cu ea neterminata.
oricat de mult as fi dorit – as dori
sa inteleg ce se intampla si de ce imi lipsesti.

Mai inalt decat in realitate , mai tanar decat in
clipa mortii , te intorci din taramul de jos ,dincolo de
de lumea de duh a viselor ca sa ma vizitezi; si nu vorbesti.
Vreau sa intreb daca ma poti iubi – vechea poveste –
dar n-o fac; te imbratisez pentru ultima data
Si spun , mereu si mereu – te iubesc.

Te-am chemat din adancuri, spunandu-ti povestea
si apoi am vazut povestile noastre ingemanate:
cum sa-mi doresc ca a ta sa sfarseasca inainte ca povestea mea sa se termine ?
 

 

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