p.d.s. 35 – octombrie
Luna mea preferata. Asa a fost intotdeauna, mi-a placut mereu sa-mi inghete un pic nasul in pre-frigul de octombrie si sa-mi crontane frunze uscate sub talpi. Luna asta cand totul e copt si viu si fosnitor, de culoarea mierii si cu gust dulce-acrisor. Cand a trecut arsita nesuferita a verii si n-au venit inca nici gerul, nici ploile de noiembrie. Luna perfecta.
Si pentru ca v-am promis, si pentru ca am descoperit ieri ca am un nou vecin pe care-l cheama Seidel (s-a mutat in locul lui Wagner, cred, ca pe el nu-l mai vad trecut pe cutia postala), astazi October al lui Frederick Seidel:
It is time to lose your life,
Even if it isn’t over.
It is time to say goodbye and try to die.
It is October.
The mellow cello
Allée of trees is almost lost in sweetness and mist
When you take off your watch at sunrise
To lose your life.
You catch the plane.
You land again.
You arrive in the place.
You speak the language.
You will live in a new house,
Even if it is old.
You will live with a new wife,
Even if she is too young.
Your slender new husband will love you.
He will walk the dog in the cold.
He will cook a meal on the stove.
He will bring you your medications in bed.
Dawn at the city flower market downtown.
The vendors have just opened.
The flowers are so fresh.
The restaurants are there to decorate their tables.
Your husband rollerblades past, whizzing,
Making a whirring sound, winged like an angel –
But stops and spins around and skates back
To buy some cut flowers in the early morning frost.
I am buying them for you.
I am buying them for your blond hair at dawn.
I am buying them for your beautiful breasts.
I am buying them for your beautiful heart.