"Zina, I'm thinking of you, with nostalgic affection."
SKETCHE
[ medeea nu este decît medeea şi nimeni altcineva.
dacă o întîlniţi într-o dimineaţă în drumul vostru spre bus sau spre kiosc,
opriţi-vă, oferiţi-i o ţigară şi faceţi o reverenţă. ]
Aseară, după ce am vorbit cu m. chris, lui i-a plăcut CJAN, am citit Sjón.
O să vă las şi vouă cîteva poeme:
[love poem]
(love poem)
between us roads from here to there to there from here * silksteelglassoilstraw unite us
*
I - you
*
from your heart to my palm to your palm from my heart
*
you and I
*
silkIsteel youglassI oilyoustraw
*
poisonous rainbow! poisonous rainbow!
*
we along the red stripe we along the blue line a heart a heart a heart mineyours between us
(love poem)
Translated by David McDuff
[café celcius]
passenger number eleven thousand one hundred and two returns to the city after an hour’s absence (compare the passenger’s reminder: do not forget to confirm your return journey) with Cuban summer drought in his lungs
10°
: it has shrunk but I have a streetmap and can be sure of getting lost
9°
no rainforest wonders no thing glitters no memories no one is waiting no telephone boxes no one dives for a swim
9°
the passenger: something is stuck in my mind - come(don’t) or go(don’t) - in the timetable I assume local time - I am going to come
17°
a short street one narrow road
10°
it is someone’s birthday for example the man at the next table he stuffs what he loves into his pipe lights it with a tiny heart
21°
everyone does their shopping at the rainwear shop!
8°
the time does not go fast enough between five and six o’clock
20°
on a bicycle and in shorts myopia shortened the way down to the beach
37°
the passenger: once I was a little boy - I played ball - then I went and now no one believes me
21°
a mambo ghost slides in through the door says it is the states wig-maker and demands rum in its coffee
19°
: I am wearing striped clothes the passenger (laughs): this is a small town
7°
night falls and the sun does not set
(café celsius)
Translated by David McDuff
[ magie des sens ]
concert de chair et de sang boîtes à musique d'os et de cartilages qui vont pas à pas et pas à pas s'en vont pas à pas à pas tout au long du chant-canon en trois dimensions tandis qu'en aparté les entrailles court-circuitent l'oreille externe le moi profond à l'écoute de soi entend ses oreilles écouter le murmure du pancréas les pleurs de la rate le frou-frou des poumons la chanson des reins le pouls des capillaires le chuchotis du foie les craquements du système nerveux les grondements de l'intestin grêle et ainsi de suite de suite
*
sans parler de cette maudite vessie qui gonfle les organes un à un et se déverse en trombe sur la place
Poème traduits de l'islandais par Catherine Eyjólfsson
