traducere & prezentare de Ioana Grin\u021bescu<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong>Audre Lorde<\/strong> (1934-1992) a copil\u0103rit la New York \u0219i a urmat cursurile Universit\u0103\u021bii Columbia. Poezia ei s-a remarcat prin memorabila dimensiune activist\u0103, atitudine pe care Lorde \u0219i-a asumat-o, opera ei devenind una dintre cele mai reprezentative pentru feminismul intersec\u021bional \u00een literatur\u0103. Pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 alte scrieri, a publicat dou\u0103 volume de poezie intitulate The First Cities<\/em> (1968) \u015fi Cables to Rage<\/em> (1970). S-a stins din via\u021b\u0103 \u00een 1992, \u00eens\u0103 poezia ei de o sinceritate dezarmant\u0103 continu\u0103 s\u0103 fie \u0219i ast\u0103zi un reper \u00een literatur\u0103.<\/p>\n \n \n Cine a spus c\u0103-i\u00a0 simplu<\/strong><\/p>\n \n Copacul furiei are at\u00e2t de multe r\u0103d\u0103cini<\/p>\n c\u0103 uneori ramurile se fr\u00e2ng<\/p>\n \u00eenainte s\u0103 rodeasc\u0103.<\/p>\n \n \u00cen fast-food la Nedicks,<\/p>\n femeile se adun\u0103 \u00eenainte de mar\u0219<\/p>\n vorbind despre fetele dubioase<\/p>\n pe care le angajeaz\u0103 ca s\u0103 aib\u0103 timp liber.<\/p>\n Un casier aproape alb \u00eel ignor\u0103<\/p>\n pe un om de la coad\u0103 \u0219i le serve\u0219te \u00eent\u00e2i pe ele,<\/p>\n dar doamnele nu observ\u0103 \u0219i nici nu-\u0219i refuz\u0103<\/p>\n micile pl\u0103ceri care le \u021bin captive.<\/p>\n Dar eu, prizonier\u0103 \u00een oglinda mea<\/p>\n \u0219i \u00een patul meu,<\/p>\n v\u0103d motiva\u021bii at\u00e2t \u00een culoare<\/p>\n c\u00e2t \u0219i \u00een sex<\/p>\n \n \u0219i stau aici \u00eentreb\u00e2ndu-m\u0103<\/p>\n care din mine va supravie\u021bui<\/p>\n tuturor acestor libert\u0103\u021bi.<\/p>\n \n \n Acas\u0103 la zei\u021ba Yemanj\u00e1<\/strong><\/p>\n \n Mama avea dou\u0103 fe\u021be \u0219i o tigaie<\/p>\n \u00een care preg\u0103tea transformarea fiicelor ei<\/p>\n \u00een fete<\/p>\n \u00eenainte s\u0103 ne g\u0103teasc\u0103 cina.<\/p>\n Mama avea dou\u0103 fe\u021be<\/p>\n \u0219i o oal\u0103 spart\u0103<\/p>\n \u00een care \u00ee\u0219i ascundea fiica perfect\u0103<\/p>\n care eu nu eram.<\/p>\n Eu sunt soarele \u0219i luna \u0219i t\u00e2njesc ve\u0219nic<\/p>\n dup\u0103 ochii ei.<\/p>\n \n Port \u00een spate dou\u0103 femei<\/p>\n una \u00eentunecat\u0103 \u0219i p\u0103trunz\u0103toare \u0219i ascuns\u0103<\/p>\n \u00een dorin\u021bele de filde\u0219 ale celeilalte<\/p>\n mame<\/p>\n palid\u0103 ca o vr\u0103jitoare<\/p>\n dar statornic\u0103 \u0219i familiar\u0103<\/p>\n \u00eemi aduce p\u00e2ine \u0219i groaz\u0103<\/p>\n \u00een somn<\/p>\n s\u00e2nii ei sunt uria\u0219e ancore captivante<\/p>\n \u00een furtuna de la miezul nop\u021bii.<\/p>\n \n Toate acestea au fost<\/p>\n \u00eenainte<\/p>\n \u00een patul mamei mele<\/p>\n timpul nu cunoa\u0219te direc\u021bie<\/p>\n nu am fra\u021bi<\/p>\n iar surorile mele sunt nemiloase.<\/p>\n \n Mam\u0103 am nevoie<\/p>\n mam\u0103 am nevoie<\/p>\n mam\u0103 am nevoie de negura ta acum<\/p>\n a\u0219a cum p\u0103m\u00e2ntul are nevoie de ploaie \u00een august.<\/p>\n Sunt<\/p>\n \n soarele \u0219i luna \u0219i t\u00e2njesc ve\u0219nic<\/p>\n dup\u0103 lama ascu\u021bit\u0103<\/p>\n unde ziua \u0219i noaptea se vor \u00eent\u00e2lni<\/p>\n \u0219i nu vor deveni<\/p>\n una.<\/p>\n \n \n Litania supravie\u021buirii<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Pentru aceia dintre noi care tr\u0103iesc la \u021b\u0103rm<\/p>\n afla\u021bi la marginile constante ale deciziei<\/p>\n esen\u021biali \u0219i singuri<\/p>\n pentru aceia dintre noi care nu \u00ee\u0219i pot \u00eeng\u0103dui<\/p>\n visele trec\u0103toare ale alegerii<\/p>\n care iubim \u00een pragul u\u0219ii la venire \u0219i la plecare<\/p>\n \u00een orele dintre dimine\u021bi<\/p>\n privind \u00een\u0103untru \u0219i \u00een afar\u0103<\/p>\n at\u00e2t \u00eenainte c\u00e2t \u0219i dup\u0103<\/p>\n \u00een c\u0103utarea unui acum ce poate na\u0219te<\/p>\n forme de viitor<\/p>\n ca p\u00e2inea \u00een gura copiilor no\u0219tri<\/p>\n a\u0219a \u00eenc\u00e2t \u00een visele lor s\u0103 nu apar\u0103 niciodat\u0103<\/p>\n moartea viselor noastre.<\/p>\n \n Pentru aceia dintre noi<\/p>\n marca\u021bi de semnul fricii<\/p>\n ca o cicatrice \u00een mijlocul frun\u021bii<\/p>\n \u00eenv\u0103\u021ba\u021bi s\u0103 ne temem \u00eenc\u0103 de la s\u00e2nul mamei<\/p>\n c\u0103ci cu ajutorul acestei arme<\/p>\n cu iluzia aceasta a unui stil de via\u021b\u0103 stabil<\/p>\n sperau cei cu pasul greu s\u0103 ne reduc\u0103 la t\u0103cere<\/p>\n Pentru noi to\u021bi<\/p>\n exist\u0103 acest moment \u0219i acest triumf<\/p>\n Noi nici nu ar fi trebuit s\u0103 supravie\u021buim.<\/p>\n \n Iar c\u00e2nd r\u0103sare soarele ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 nu va r\u0103m\u00e2ne mereu pe cer<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd soarele apune ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 nu va mai r\u0103s\u0103ri \u00een zori<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd avem burta plin\u0103 ne temem<\/p>\n de indigestie<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd avem stomacul gol ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 nu vom mai m\u00e2nca iar niciodat\u0103<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd suntem iubi\u021bi ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 dragostea va disp\u0103rea<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd suntem singuri ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 nu va mai fi dragoste niciodat\u0103<\/p>\n iar c\u00e2nd vorbim ne temem<\/p>\n c\u0103 vorbele noastre nu vor fi auzite<\/p>\n sau binevenite<\/p>\n dar c\u00e2nd suntem t\u0103cu\u021bi<\/p>\n tot ne temem<\/p>\n \n A\u0219a c\u0103 e mai bine s\u0103 vorbim<\/p>\n amintindu-ne<\/p>\n c\u0103 nici nu ar fi trebuit s\u0103 supravie\u021buim.<\/p>\n \n \n \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" traducere & prezentare de Ioana Grin\u021bescu \u00a0Audre Lorde (1934-1992) a copil\u0103rit la New York \u0219i a urmat cursurile Universit\u0103\u021bii Columbia. Poezia ei s-a remarcat prin memorabila dimensiune activist\u0103, atitudine pe care Lorde \u0219i-a asumat-o, opera ei devenind una dintre cele mai reprezentative pentru feminismul intersec\u021bional \u00een literatur\u0103. Pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 alte scrieri, a publicat dou\u0103 volume […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"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":[1781,13],"tags":[1788,1782,1787,1114,72],"class_list":["post-15759","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-85","category-poezie","tag-audre-lorde","tag-egophobia-85","tag-ioana-grintescu","tag-poezie","tag-traducere"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-46b","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15759","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\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=15759"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15759\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15760,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15759\/revisions\/15760"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=15759"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=15759"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=15759"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}