traducere & prezentare de Adriana \u0218erban<\/p>\n
Linda Gregg (1942\u20132019) a fost o important\u0103 poet\u0103 american\u0103, n\u0103scut\u0103 \u00een Suffern, New York, \u0219i crescut\u0103 \u00een Marin County, California. A studiat la San Francisco State University. A debutat \u00een 1981 cu Too Bright to See<\/em>, urmat de volume precum Alma<\/em>, The Sacraments of Desire<\/em>, Things and Flesh<\/em> \u0219i All of It Singing<\/em>. Poezia sa, de o intensitate liric\u0103 remarcabil\u0103, exploreaz\u0103 \u00een principal iubirea, pierderea, dorin\u021ba, singur\u0103tatea \u0219i suferin\u021ba. A primit numeroase distinc\u021bii, \u00eentre care premiul Whiting, premiul Sara Teasdale \u0219i premiul PEN\/Voelcker. A predat cursuri de poezie \u0219i scriere creativ\u0103 la mai multe universit\u0103\u021bi prestigioase americane \u0219i a locuit la New York p\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een ultima parte a vie\u021bii.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Singur\u0103 cu zei\u021ba<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tinerii m\u00e2n\u0103 caii \u00een galop<\/p>\n pe nisipul ud din Parangtritis.<\/p>\n \u00cenainte \u0219i \u00eenapoi, cu apa c\u00e2nd aproape,<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd alunec\u00e2nd departe.<\/p>\n Aceasta este marea \u00een care tr\u0103ie\u0219te zei\u021ba,<\/p>\n furioas\u0103, desp\u0103r\u021bit\u0103 de iubitul ei.<\/p>\n Nu purta ro\u0219u, nu purta verde aici,<\/p>\n a\u0219a zic oamenii. Nu \u00eenota \u00een mare.<\/p>\n Adu-i ceva ofrand\u0103.<\/p>\n \u00cei ofer o nuc\u0103 de cocos ca s\u0103-l protejez<\/p>\n pe cel ce-l iubesc. Apa o aduce \u00eenapoi.<\/p>\n Intru \u00een ap\u0103 \u0219i o arunc \u0219i mai departe.<\/p>\n \u201eZei\u021ba nu-\u021bi prime\u0219te darul\u201d,<\/p>\n zice o b\u0103tr\u00e2nic\u0103.<\/p>\n Eu \u00eei spun c\u0103 poate m\u0103 place<\/p>\n \u0219i c\u0103, de fapt, e un joc.<\/p>\n B\u0103tr\u00e2na r\u0103m\u00e2ne pe g\u00e2nduri,<\/p>\n caii poart\u0103 obr\u0103zare de p\u00e2nz\u0103,<\/p>\n tinerii sunt m\u00e2ndri de ei,<\/p>\n nu mai v\u0103d nici \u00een st\u00e2nga, nici \u00een dreapta,<\/p>\n pretind c\u0103 sunt ne\u00eenfrica\u021bi. \u00cen galop,<\/p>\n \u00eencolo \u0219i \u00eencoace, pe caii lor frumo\u0219i,<\/p>\n pe plaja ud\u0103 de la Parangtritis.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Persefona c\u0103tre cel\u0103lalt so\u021b <\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Aproape imediat ce am ajuns \u00een Grecia, \u00een prima sear\u0103<\/p>\n pe insul\u0103, am \u00eencercat s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentorc la tine \u0219i la via\u021ba noastr\u0103.<\/p>\n Nu mi-a ie\u0219it. Am f\u0103cut acelea\u0219i gre\u0219eli ca al\u021bii,<\/p>\n confund\u00e2nd acea cas\u0103 cu moartea. M-am dus la cimitir<\/p>\n \u00een loc s\u0103 m\u0103 duc spre u\u0219a din spate. Redevenisem<\/p>\n o oarecare. Pisicile de pe drum fugeau de mine.<\/p>\n Cerul era ro\u0219u, iar lumea se \u00eentuneca. Ciulinii \u00eenal\u021bi<\/p>\n p\u00e2n\u0103 la umeri se profilau negri pe argintiul M\u0103rii Egee.<\/p>\n Aveam de g\u00e2nd s\u0103 fur un vas de lut \u00een amintirea ta,<\/p>\n dar poarta era \u00eencuiat\u0103. M-am uitat prin ea \u0219i am v\u0103zut<\/p>\n lum\u00e2n\u0103ri aprinse \u00een firide, sus, pe pietrele funerare.<\/p>\n Lumini\u021bele str\u0103luceau printre chiparo\u0219i de parc\u0103 ar fi fost<\/p>\n pentru mine. Am v\u0103zut cum luau \u00een serios \u00eentunericul<\/p>\n \u0219i am renun\u021bat. M-am \u00eentors la noua mea via\u021b\u0103. Pe l\u00e2ng\u0103<\/p>\n \u00eenchisoarea de la marginea ora\u0219ului. Printre casele s\u0103racilor.<\/p>\n Am furat un trandafir care crescuse peste zidul unei vile<\/p>\n ca s\u0103 i-l dau so\u021bului meu \u00een casa \u00een care tr\u0103iesc acum,<\/p>\n un fel de scuz\u0103 pentru ne\u00eencrederea acestei dorin\u021be,<\/p>\n dup\u0103 scumpul mister al bufni\u021belor din acea noapte stranie.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Laud\u0103 prim\u0103verii<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ziua se umple cu fiecare lucru \u0219i devine complet\u0103.<\/p>\n Ies, intru \u00eenapoi \u0219i ies din nou, tulburat\u0103<\/p>\n de o frumuse\u021be care nu cunoa\u0219te am\u00e2nare \u0219i n\u0103v\u0103le\u0219te<\/p>\n ca focul. Toate lucrurile se mi\u0219c\u0103 mai repede<\/p>\n ca timpul \u0219i creeaz\u0103 astfel nemi\u0219care. Mintea mea<\/p>\n se las\u0103 pe spate \u0219i z\u00e2mbe\u0219te, neav\u00e2nd nimic de zis.<\/p>\n Chiar \u0219i noaptea ies afar\u0103 cu o lumin\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103 uit<\/p>\n cum totul cre\u0219te. M\u0103 a\u0219ez \u00een genunchi \u0219i privesc fiecare lucru<\/p>\n \u00een parte. Un p\u0103ianjen alb umbl\u0103 pe un boboc de bujor.<\/p>\n Nu am nimic de oferit \u0219i a\u0219 fi o slujitoare nepriceput\u0103,<\/p>\n dar pot s\u0103 laud prim\u0103vara. Pot s\u0103 laud aceast\u0103 s\u0103lb\u0103ticie<\/p>\n care nu \u021bine seama de ceas. C\u0103prioara care nu se opre\u0219te<\/p>\n la l\u0103sarea \u00eentunericului, ci continu\u0103 s\u0103 creasc\u0103 toat\u0103 noaptea.<\/p>\n Frumuse\u021bea \u00een fiecare treapt\u0103 a \u00eenfloririi. Violetele se \u00eenal\u021b\u0103<\/p>\n c\u00e2nd plou\u0103 \u0219i p\u00e2r\u00e2ul e mai zgomotos ca niciodat\u0103.<\/p>\n B\u0103tr\u00e2nul fermier neam\u021b doarme \u0219i florile continu\u0103<\/p>\n s\u0103 se deschid\u0103. Sunt stele pe cer. Menta cre\u0219te \u00eenalt\u0103. Frunzele<\/p>\n se leag\u0103n\u0103 \u00een b\u0103taia soarelui \u00een timp ce plou\u0103 f\u0103r\u0103 oprire.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n O v\u0103d acolo<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n C\u00e2nd m\u0103 duc \u00een gradin\u0103, o v\u0103d acolo.<\/p>\n Fantoma \u00ee\u0219i ridic\u0103 bra\u021bele ca s\u0103-mi arate<\/p>\n c\u0103 m\u00e2inile i-au fost m\u00e2ncate.<\/p>\n Din cauza agoniei, r\u0103m\u00e2ne t\u0103cut\u0103.<\/p>\n Are s\u00e2nge pe fa\u021b\u0103.<\/p>\n \u00cemi dau seama c\u0103 \u0219i-a f\u0103cut-o cu m\u00e2na ei.<\/p>\n Ca s\u0103 nu mai simt\u0103 cealalt\u0103 durere.<\/p>\n \u0218i este adev\u0103rat, nu o mai simte.<\/p>\n Nici m\u0103car nu m\u0103 vede.<\/p>\n Nu mai este ea, ci durerea \u00eens\u0103\u0219i<\/p>\n o mi\u0219c\u0103. O privesc \u0219i m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc<\/p>\n cum s\u0103 uit. Cum pot s\u0103 tr\u0103iesc c\u00e2t timp ea<\/p>\n st\u0103 acolo? \u0218i dac\u0103 \u00eei curm via\u021ba,<\/p>\n ce se va alege de mine? Nu pot<\/p>\n s\u0103 o ating, s\u0103 o aduc \u00eenapoi la realitate.<\/p>\n A\u0219 r\u0103ni-o prea tare.<\/p>\n Aud peste tot sunetul, felul \u00een care m\u00e2nca,<\/p>\n dar acum a r\u0103mas singur,<\/p>\n complet separat de trup. Cred c\u0103<\/p>\n ar trebui s\u0103 m\u0103 uit la ea. N-ar trebui<\/p>\n s\u0103-mi feresc privirea. Ar trebui s\u0103 v\u0103d cum dispar<\/p>\n fiecare detaliu \u0219i toat\u0103 expresivitatea.<\/p>\n Doamne, cred c\u0103, dac\u0103 paradisul ar fi aici,<\/p>\n ar trebui s\u0103 o includ\u0103 \u0219i pe ea.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" traducere & prezentare de Adriana \u0218erban Linda Gregg (1942\u20132019) a fost o important\u0103 poet\u0103 american\u0103, n\u0103scut\u0103 \u00een Suffern, New York, \u0219i crescut\u0103 \u00een Marin County, California. A studiat la San Francisco State University. A debutat \u00een 1981 cu Too Bright to See, urmat de volume precum Alma, The Sacraments of Desire, Things and Flesh \u0219i […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1914,13],"tags":[1921,1915,1920,1114,72],"class_list":["post-16482","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-91","category-poezie","tag-adriana-serban","tag-egophobia-91","tag-linda-gregg","tag-poezie","tag-traducere"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-4hQ","jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16482","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=16482"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16482\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16483,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16482\/revisions\/16483"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=16482"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=16482"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=16482"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}