Poezie

The Grating of Childhood

a translation afler a text by Mihaela Roxana Boboc

2 min lectură·30 iunie 2016

Mediu

the liberation from the past is not mine, father

the bottles aligned on the back of the memory still frighten me

the clearness that you will be gone one day

and I will not be able to mourn over you

because a part of me

broke the gratings of childhood and now it bites from ease and longing

like from a poem which no one has called after oneself,

from that fear when you take the metaphor to the river

to wash away its meanings and a stream runs through the veins

then you come back a stranger

from the walls you yelled to up to aneurism

my father is a painting changing angles after fragile dandelions

and the feeling grows pagan from all disclosure

I am still afraid of autumn caresses

of unfolded leaves from the chromatic cheek

I align my fears and wipe them

in the cruelty of poppy flowers

the words come out beating their chests

where are you, father?

you, who have lost me so many times

until I loved you,

when you grabbled through phantasy and the only bud bloomed from the tip of the brush

orphan syllables come out of me

and mother is as beautiful as you left her

with lips full of ground

only I doubt the sky, the love and the suburbs

someday I shall come back, child, in a season

wearing bundles of snow

0011.442

Alina Maria Ivan. “The Grating of Childhood.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/alina-maria-ivan/poezie/14093961/the-grating-of-childhood

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