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.

Rodica Ionas

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

“Aceasta micuta planeta albastra gazduieste ceva special –
pe noi.” Jeanette Winterson

Ca in fiecare an
Patinatorii de la Rockefeller Centre
Au incins gheata cu fier
In lanturi lungi formate din familii
Sau legaturi stranse intre iubiti,

Iar urmele pe care le lasa
Sunt frecventele
Unui Craciun newyorkez
Ce intra in aer
Cu acest mesaj global,

Ca iubirea este tenace,
Ca fiecare rasuflare calda
Ce pluteste in eter
Prin neonul acoperit de nori
Vine incununata de propria-i sclipire,

Ca se transforma in fantome
Atunci cand le pierdem,
Desi o mana intr-o manusa
Sau un brat in jurul unui trup
Vor fi singurele amintiri,

Si ca nu e nimic mai rau decat
Sa dispari neiubit
De pe aceasta mica planeta albastra,
Aceasta lume pe care noi am facut-o,
Cu gloria si eroarea sa.

Astfel se aduna patinatorii
La Rockefeller Center,
Cei morti si cei vii
Dorind sa se afirme
Cu gratie stangace

Pe ringul ce sclipeste
Cu straluciri de diamante
Fara sa se teama de umbrele noptii reci
Ce se inalta
Dincolo de cerul nesfarsit.