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That negligible bit of sand which slides
Without a sound and settles in the hourglass,
And the fleeting impressions on the fleshy-pink,
The perishable fleshy-pink, of a cloud…
Then a hand that turns over the hourglass,
The going back for flowing back, of sand,
The quiet silvering of a cloud
In the first few lead-gray seconds of dawn…
The hand in shadow turned the hourglass,
And the negligible bit of sand which slides
And is silent, is the only thing now heard,
And, being heard, doesn’t vanish in the dark.
Giuseppe Ungaretti |
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Variatii despre nimic
Acea cantitate neglijabila de nisip care aluneca
Fara sa scoata vreun sunet si se stabileste in clepsidra
Si impresiile trecatoare despre rozul carnal
Perisabilul roz carnal, al unui nor…
Apoi o mana care se intoarce asupra clepsidrei
Intoarcerea pentru a curge inapoi, a nisipului,
Albirea tacuta a unui nor
In primele cateva secunde conduse de cenusiu ale diminetii
Mana din umbra intoarse clepsidra
Si cantitatea neglijabila de nisip care aluneca
Si e tacuta, e singurul lucru care se mai aude acum,
Si, fiind auzit, nu dispare in intuneric.
They call her Alexa, she is too pretty to acknowledge that she is pretty. She speaks with her friends on Yahoo! Messenger and she wants to be informed, she wants to travel and she doesn’t like priests that tell her moral stories and prohibit some behaviours. Alexa is 11 years, she will be old like me in 13 years. She won’t have as much fun as I had, I’m sure about it. But she will be more clever than me, she will have more friends than me and she will certainly get a job in the USA. Now she is slapping me because she doesn’t trust my words (in fact these are prospectives, it’s almost a prophecy). Tell me something, my dear!
She said “I wish many things”, she will have them. “But the greatest desire is to have an immortal family”, she said to me, smiling. Maybe her children will be immortal, and her husband, her relatives, her dog, her cat, her necklace and me.
UN BAHUT
Je t’ai ciré,
Je t’ai frotté,
J’ai pris plaisir
A te donner ma peine,
A sentir mon pouvoir
Sur ton gros bois de chêne.
Presque tu ronronnais
Sur ton linge et ton creux
Je te regarde maintenant,
Je me sens net
dans le recueil “Sphère”
