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.

George Cojocaru

John Mole
 

Patinatorii

“Planeta asta mica si albastra este caminul a ceva special – noi”. Jeanette Winterson

Patinatorii de la Rockefeller Center,
Ca in fiecare an,
Au pus metalul pe gheata
Intr-un intins lant de familii
Sau verigi intime de cupluri.

Iar urmele pe care le lasa
Sunt undele unui Craciun in New York
Emitand
Acest mesaj global.

Ca iubire e indrazneata,
Si fiecare respiratie calda,
Ce pluteste in eter,
Prin neonul incetosat,
Devine o spirala stralucitoare.

Si ca din cauza suferintei,
Au devenit niste umbre.
Iar o mana inmanusata
Sau un brat pe-o incheietura,
E tot ce-si vor aminti

Si ca sa pieri neiubit
De pe planeta asta mica si albastra,
Locul nasterii noastre,
Cu bune si cu rele,
Ar fi o tragedie.

Iar patinatorii se imbulzesc
La Rockefeller Center,
Viii si mortii,
Toti binevoitori,
Cu o gratie nesigura.

Si patinoarul straluceste
Ca un diamant,
Fara teama de noptile reci,
Crescande,
Dincolo de cerul nesfarsit.