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.

Alina Petrescu

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

“Aceasta micuta planeta albastra e casa unor fiinte deosebite:
Noi insine.” Jeanette Winterson

Ca-n fiecare an,
Patinatorii de la Rockefeller Center
Au pus fierul pe gheata
In lungi lanturi in familie
Sau strangeri intime de cuplu.

Iar urmele pe care le lasa
Sunt frecvente precum
Craciunul newyorkez
Ce se raspandeste in aer
Cu mesajul universal

Ca dragostea e tenace,
Ca fiecare rasuflare calda
Ce pluteste in eter
Prin neonul adumbrit
Se rasuceste in propria-i lumina.

Ca din cauza pierderii lor
Sunt deja duhuri,
Desi isi vor aminti
De o mana inmanusata
Sau de-un brat in jurul taliei.

Si ca sa dispari neiubit
De pe aceasta micuta planeta albastra,
Din lumea asta faurita de noi insine,
Cu slava si greseala ei,
E cel mai tragic lucru.

Asa ca patinatorii se inghesuie
La Centrul Rockefeller,
Cei morti si cei vii
Cu incapatanare si tarie,
Intr-o eleganta nesigura,

Pe cand patinoarul luceste
In lumina-i de diamant
Fara a se teme de umbrele
Ce domina racoroasa noapte
Dincolo de cerul nemarginit.