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.

Ana-Maria Purec

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

Aceasta planeta mica albastra este casa a ceva special –
noi. Jeanette Winterson

Patinatorii de la Centrul Rockefeller
Dupa cum fac in fiecare an
S-au pregatit de gheata
In familii intregi
Sau in cupluri intime.

Si tiparele pe care le fac
Sunt frecventa
Unui Craciun in New York
Iesind la aer
Cu acest mesaj global,

Ca iubirea este tenace,
Ca fiecare suflare calda
Care pluteste in eter
Prin neoanele innorate
Vine incununata in propria-i lucire

Ca din cauza ca le-am pierdut
Sunt deja fantome,
Desi o mana intr-o manusa
Sau un brat in jurul taliei
Va fi tot ce-si vor aminti,

Si sa dispari fara iubire
De pe aceasta planeta mica albastra,
Aceasta lume facuta de noi,
Gloria si erorile sale,
E cel mai rau lucru posibil.

Asa ca patinatorii se ingramadesc
In Centrul Rockefeller,
Viii si mortii
Cu sustinere incapatanata,
O gratie ezitanta

In timp de patinoarul traluceste
Cu lumina sa de diamant
Neinfricat de umbrele
Noptii friguroase ce se ridica
Dincolo de cerul nesfarsit.