JOHN MOLE

The Skaters

'This tiny blue planet is home to something special - ourselves.’
Jeanette Winterson

The skaters at the Rockefeller Center
As they do each year
Have set iron to ice
In extended family chains
Or intimate links of coupledom,

And the patterns they make
Are the frequencies
Of a New York Christmas
Going out on the air
With this global message,

That love is tenacious,
That every warm breath
Which floats on the ether
Through clouded neon
Comes wreathed in its glow,

That because of their loss
They are ghosts already,
Though a hand in a glove
Or an arm round a waist
Will be what they remember,

And to vanish unloved
From this tiny blue planet,
This world of our making,
Its glory and error,
Is the worst that can happen.

So the skaters crowd in
To the Rockefeller Center,
The dead and the living
With willed affirmation,
A hesitant grace

As the ice-rink shines
In its diamond brightness
Unafraid of the cold night's
Towering shadows
And beyond the endless sky.

Roxana Mindrican

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

Ca in fiecare an
patinatorii din Rockefeller Center
au “spart gheata”
in clanuri mari
sau cupluri inlantuite,

darele pe care le lasa
sunt toate acele seri
de Craciun Newyorkez
ce poarta in aer
acest mesaj universal,

ca dragoaste-i durabila
ca fiecare rasuflare fierbinte
ce pluteste-n vazduh
in lumina cetoasa a neonului
se infasoara in propria-i stralucire,

ca datorita durerii lor
sunt deja spirite,
desi isi amintesc
o mana-nmanusata
sau un brat cuprinzand o talie,

nimic nu poate fi mai tragic
decat sa pieri fara iubire
de pe acesata mica planeta albastra
aceasta lume inventata de noi
plina de glorie si greseli.

Patinatorii se-aduna
In Rockefeller Center,
cei vi si cei morti,
cu o vointa darza
si o gratie ezitanta

in timp ce patinoarul luceste
in splendoarea-i de diamante
netemator in fata umbrelor falnice
ale noptii reci
si dincolo de acest cer infinit.