{"id":13124,"date":"2020-09-10T07:29:07","date_gmt":"2020-09-10T05:29:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=13124"},"modified":"2020-09-10T00:31:35","modified_gmt":"2020-09-09T22:31:35","slug":"poeme-de-fred-daguiar-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=13124","title":{"rendered":"poeme de Fred D\u2019Aguiar"},"content":{"rendered":"

(egoRainbow)<\/span><\/p>\n

traducere & prezentare: Monica Manolachi<\/p>\n

Fred D\u2019Aguiar s-a n\u0103scut \u00een Londra \u00een 1960 \u00eentr-o familie guyanez\u0103, \u0219i-a petrecut copil\u0103ria \u00een Guyana \u0219i s-a \u00eentors \u00een Marea Britanie \u00een adolescen\u021b\u0103. \u00cenainte de a urma studii africane \u0219i caraibe la Universitatea din Kent, \u00een Canterbury, s-a specializat ca asistent medical de psihiatrie. Volumul s\u0103u de debut,\u00a0Mama Dot<\/em>\u00a0(1985), reflect\u0103 cu nostalgie via\u021ba \u0219i obiceiurile din Guyana prin intermediul unui personaj feminin exemplar. Cu volumul\u00a0Airy Hall<\/em>\u00a0(1989), dedicat satului unde a fost crescut de bunici, D\u2019Aguiar a primit premiul na\u021bional pentru literatur\u0103 \u00een Guyana.\u00a0British Subjects<\/em> (1993) abordeaz\u0103 problematica migra\u021biei \u0219i a multiculturalismului prin prisma interioriz\u0103rii conflictelor sociale \u0219i a memoriei personale racordate la cea colectiv\u0103.\u00a0Bill of Rights<\/em>\u00a0(1998), un volum despre trauma transcultural\u0103 produs\u0103 de masacrul din Jonestown (Guyana) din 1978, a fost nominalizat pentru premiul T. S. Eliot. Poemul narativ Bloodlines <\/em>(2000) trateaz\u0103 despre dragostea dintre o sclav\u0103 \u0219i fiul unui proprietar de planta\u021bie din sudul Statelor Unite ale Americii. Fred D\u2019Aguiar este \u0219i autor de romane \u0219i piese de teatru cu tematic\u0103 postcolonial\u0103. De pild\u0103, romanul Feeding the Ghosts<\/em>\u00a0(1997) are la baz\u0103 istoria unui b\u0103iat care a supravie\u021buit unui transport transatlantic de sclavi, c\u00e2nd a fost aruncat peste bord \u00eempreun\u0103 cu al\u021bi 132 de oameni. Versurile de mai jos sunt extrase din volumul The Rose of Toulouse<\/em> (2013).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Politic\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Soarele zilei de azi nu seam\u0103n\u0103 deloc cu cel de ieri,<\/p>\n

marea minge de foc \u2013 bun\u0103tate, gra\u021bie \u2013 pr\u0103bu\u0219it\u0103<\/p>\n

dincolo de Mun\u021bii Brush din Blacksburg, \u00een Virginia.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Soarele de azi arde cu flac\u0103r\u0103 alb\u0103 \u00een cea\u021ba \u00eenver\u0219unat\u0103,<\/p>\n

care pa\u0219te vr\u00e2nd-nevr\u00e2nd peste arbori, dealuri \u0219i v\u0103i.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pantofii purta\u021bi de tata<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Scriu \u00een g\u00e2nd ca s\u0103-mi \u021bin mintea limpede.<\/p>\n

\u00cemi dau seama c\u0103 am 50 de ani \u0219i deschid gura.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Gura \u00eemi sare de pe chip \u0219i m\u0103 \u00eentreab\u0103<\/p>\n

pe unde vreau s\u0103 mai merg.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pe picioarele mele, spun, \u0219i m\u0103 uit \u00een jos<\/p>\n

ca prostul \u0219i v\u0103d doar picioarele tat\u0103lui meu,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

acolo unde ar fi ale mele, \u0219i pantofii lui<\/p>\n

la un flirt cu gura mea c\u0103zut\u0103.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A\u0219a c\u0103 semnez, gre\u0219it, oarecum gr\u0103bit,<\/p>\n

c\u00e2t mai am timp, vorbesc repede,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

vorbesc repede fiindc\u0103 ziua e lung\u0103,<\/p>\n

dragile mele t\u0103lpi goale.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pantofii lui \u00een picioarele mele devin pantofii mei<\/p>\n

\u00een picioarele lui. Picioarele mele sunt ale lui,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

transplantate pe corpul meu.<\/p>\n

El pocne\u0219te din c\u0103lc\u00e2ie, iar eu dansez.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dorin<\/strong>\u021b\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ce bine dac\u0103 velierele \u00eenalte de la \u021b\u0103rmul Africii<\/p>\n

Ar fi aruncat ancora \u0219i ar fi s\u0103dit planta\u021bii acolo:<\/p>\n

Trestie de zah\u0103r, tutun, bumbac \u0219i cafea!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00cen schimb, \u0219i-au burdu\u0219it cu africani burdihanele<\/p>\n

Fl\u0103m\u00e2nde ale carenelor \u0219i au ridicat p\u00e2nzele<\/p>\n

Nemaidorindu-\u0219i nimic din locul acela m\u0103re\u021b<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dac\u0103 nu cumva era diamant, aur, filde\u0219, carne.<\/p>\n

Dau ceasurile \u00eenapoi \u0219i \u00eentorc acele veliere<\/p>\n

F\u0103r\u0103 niciun sunet de glonte, bici ori pumnal,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Care s\u0103 ne asurzeasc\u0103 timp de at\u00e2tea secole.<\/p>\n

N-ar mai fi at\u00e2tea c\u0103r\u0103ri de oase, oasele oamenilor<\/p>\n

Arunca\u021bi \u00een mare, aduna\u021bi acum parc\u0103 la priveghi.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Englez<\/strong>\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cu limba cur\u0103\u021b toat\u0103 sarea,<\/p>\n

scormonesc cu nasul dup\u0103 alte urme<\/p>\n

de minerale, obosit s\u0103 inhalez praf.<\/p>\n

Prive\u0219te cu ochii<\/em>, \u00eemi spune un glas,<\/p>\n

nu cu cei din cap deschi\u0219i \u00een afar\u0103<\/em>.<\/p>\n

V\u0103d sloiuri de ghea\u021b\u0103, desp\u0103r\u021bite de curen\u021bi.<\/p>\n

Sarea bombardeaz\u0103 aerul, \u00eemi crap\u0103 buzele.<\/p>\n

Plutesc \u00eenspre vest tras de ap\u0103.<\/p>\n

Gonesc prin cea\u021b\u0103, prin p\u00e2nze de p\u0103ianjen,<\/p>\n

muselin\u0103 \u0219i piele sau poate fiecare \u00eemi face loc.<\/p>\n

Privesc \u00een oglind\u0103 \u0219i m\u0103 scufund \u00een ea.<\/p>\n

Aud zg\u00e2rieturi, un p\u00e2r\u00e2ia\u0219, buzele mele<\/p>\n

dau buzna la microfon \u0219i plesc\u0103i cu limba<\/p>\n

prin cerul gurii c\u0103ptu\u0219it cu minerale.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2013 Englez\u0103, strig\u0103 copiii, at\u00e2t de aproape,<\/p>\n

\u00eenc\u00e2t i-a\u0219 putea atinge pe fiecare cu unul<\/p>\n

dintre degetele mele \u00eentinse.<\/p>\n

\u2013 Englez\u0103! N-ar trebui s\u0103 cer niciodat\u0103<\/p>\n

informa\u021bii pentru a m\u0103 \u00eentoarce \u00een copil\u0103rie,<\/p>\n

s\u0103 aterizez pe tendin\u021bele Atlanticului<\/p>\n

de a amenin\u021ba cu rev\u0103rsarea spre capital\u0103,<\/p>\n

s\u0103 trimit un val de maree spre casa<\/p>\n

v\u0103ruit\u0103 \u0219i c\u00e2mpurile de orez copt,<\/p>\n

la \u021bar\u0103, unde alergam descul\u021b,<\/p>\n

cu c\u0103ma\u0219a flutur\u00e2nd afar\u0103 din pantaloni<\/p>\n

\u0219i o gaur\u0103 \u00een \u0219li\u021b pe care, nu \u0219tiu cum,<\/p>\n

dar penisul meu o g\u0103sea \u0219i fetele<\/p>\n

\u021bipau amuzate \u0219i uluite.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00cen cealalt\u0103 capital\u0103 unde engleza<\/p>\n

mi se potrive\u0219te m\u0103nu\u0219\u0103, mi se spune<\/p>\n

s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentorc acas\u0103. Dac\u0103 mi se spune englez<\/p>\n

acolo, atunci protestez. Undeva<\/p>\n

la mijloc, peste Atlantic, America,<\/p>\n

Anglia \u0219i Guyana sunt un melanj de nori,<\/p>\n

soare, aer \u0219i ploaie. Se unesc frumos,<\/p>\n

f\u0103r\u0103 semne c\u0103 ar fi diferite. Acela sunt eu<\/p>\n

dispus \u00een forme de nori, zbur\u00e2nd<\/p>\n

f\u0103r\u0103 bucuria aripilor sau a pa\u0219aportului,<\/p>\n

\u00een mi\u0219care liber\u0103 dintr-un loc \u00een altul,<\/p>\n

f\u0103r\u0103 un nume suficient de puternic<\/p>\n

ca s\u0103 se prind\u0103 de piele, a\u0219a cum se prind<\/p>\n

marea, soarele, aerul \u0219i mineralele din ele.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(egoRainbow) traducere & prezentare: Monica Manolachi Fred D\u2019Aguiar s-a n\u0103scut \u00een Londra \u00een 1960 \u00eentr-o familie guyanez\u0103, \u0219i-a petrecut copil\u0103ria \u00een Guyana \u0219i s-a \u00eentors \u00een Marea Britanie \u00een adolescen\u021b\u0103. \u00cenainte de a urma studii africane \u0219i caraibe la Universitatea din Kent, \u00een Canterbury, s-a specializat ca asistent medical de psihiatrie. Volumul s\u0103u de debut,\u00a0Mama […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1435,952,13],"tags":[1436,1162,885,807,1114,72],"class_list":["post-13124","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-64","category-egorainbow","category-poezie","tag-egophobia-64","tag-egorainbow","tag-fred-daguiar","tag-monica-manolachi","tag-poezie","tag-traducere"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-3pG","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13124","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13124"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13124\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13125,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13124\/revisions\/13125"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13124"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13124"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13124"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}