ANNE STEWART

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You learned to read, long before you were aware,
those signs that said you should shut down and listen –
only for a sigh, a tut; a warning to avoid the Sykesean glare
that held you guilty, traitorous and unforgiven.

She was deliberate, trying always to be fair,
judging your successes with a measure of suspicion;
good behaviour warranting good fortune being rare
with you so wilful – so arrogant and self-permitting.

You came to recognise the rustle of a collar under hair;
to know that pursed lips can have no thought of kissing.
How fear of losing tries to trip each step you dare
along the rope and timber bridge of what is missing.

Diana Spahiu

Anne Stewart
 

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Ai invatat sa citesti, cu mult inainte sa iti dai seama,
acele semne ce iti spuneau sa taci si sa asculti –
doar pentru un suspin, un sunet, un semn de evitare a privirii Sykeseane
ce te facea vinovat, tradator si neiertat.

Era chibzuita, incercand intodeauna sa fie corecta,
judecandu-ti reusitele cu oarecare suspiciune;
buna purtare asigura raritatea bunastarii
cu tine atat de indaratnic – atat de arogant si de egoist.

Ai ajuns sa recunosti fasaitul unui guler de sub par;
sa stii ca buzele pungite nu pot fi sarutate.
Cum teama de a pierde incerca sa te incurce la fiecare pas pe care-l faci
de-a lungul franghiei si-a podului de lemn din ceea ce lipseste.