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.

Teofana Trapcea

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

Ca in fiecare an,
Patinatorii de la Rockefeller Center
S-au lansat pe gheata
Familii formand lanturi desfasurate
Sau verigi intime ale cuplurilor,

Iar desenele pe care le fac
Sunt frecventele
Unui Craciun newyorkez
Care transmit pe calea undelor
Acest mesaj global,

Iubirea e staruitoare,
Fiecare suflare calda
Care pluteste in eter
Prin lumina incetosata a neonului
Vine invaluita in propria stralucire,

Odata ce au pierdut-o
Sunt deja prefacuti in naluci
Desi isi vor aminti
O mana inmanusata
Sau un brat in jurul taliei.

Sa pieri de pe aceasta mica planeta albastra
Fara a fi fost iubit
E cel mai rau lucru care se poate intampla
In aceasta lume a noastra
Cu splendoarea si greselile ei.

Asa ca patinatorii se aduna
La Rockefeller Center,
Cei morti si cei vii
Cu o afirmare voita,
O eleganta nesigura

In timp ce ringul de gheata straluceste
Cu luciul lui de diamant
Fara sa se teama de umbrele inalte
Ale noptii reci
Si dincolo de cerul fara sfarsit.