11. She was reeking of booze from afar

She was reeking of booze from afar, so her putting it down to paralysis sort of fell on deaf ears. People were averting their eyes, pulling faces and just moving on as I actually meant to be doing myself. The old woman just sprawled on the pavement, utterly helpless. Through her shabby house robe, missing buttons, a white expanse of belly was showing. The hedgehog sow. She was the hedgehog sow doomed by the pitchfork prongs, the hedgehog sow crossing your path and spoiling your day. She looked frighteningly like the hedgehog sows I’d come across down country lanes, belly up. The marks of the prongs plunged into the smooth patch would send me in a swoon. I used to dig a hole and drag them into it one by one. No idea whose comfort I did that for – theirs or mine only. Now I was standing next to the old beggar woman, just as utterly helpless as she was. I reached her some money. I knew she would spend it on booze and still I let the money drop into her hand.

11. She was reeking of booze from afar

Je rook al van ver de dranklucht, zodat haar praatje over haar verlamming in de lucht bleef hangen. De mensen wendden het hoofd af, trokken een lelijk gezicht en liepen door, zoals ook ik geneigd was te doen. Het besje lag op het cement, hulpeloos, op haar rug. Door haar afgedragen kamerjas, waaraan een paar knopen ontbraken, kon je de een witte vlek van haar buik zien. De vrouwtjesegel. Ze was de vrouwtjesegel, bedreigd door de tanden van de hooivork, de egel die je weg kruist en je goede luim verpest. Ze leek vreselijk op de egels die ik in de lente op de paden aantrof, buik omhoog. De sporen van de vork, gedreven in de gladde plek, donzig als een babyhals, wriemelend van de mieren, deed me walgen. Daarop groef ik een kuil en sleepte ze er d’r een voor een naartoe. Ik heb geen idee of het veeleer voor hún dan wel míjn rust was. En nu bevond ik me naast de oude bedelares, even machteloos als zij. Ik reikte wat kleingeld aan. Ik wist dat ze er drank van zou kopen, en toch liet ik de muntjes in de uitgestoken hand vallen.

Mirosea de departe a băutură, aşa că textul ei cu paralizia cădea cumva în gol. Oamenii întorceau capul, se strîmbau şi treceau mai departe, cum de fapt eram şi eu tentată. Bătrîna stătea pe ciment, neputincioasă, răsturnată. Prin capotul jerpelit, cu nasturi lipsă, i se vedea un petic alb din burtă. Aricioaica. Era aricioaica pîndită de dinţii furcii, aricioaica ce-ţi iese în cale şi-ţi strică tot cheful. Semăna îngrozitor cu aricioaicele pe care le găseam primăvara în cărare, cu burta în sus. Urmele furcii împlîntate în locul neted, pufos ca guşa de bebeluş, pline de furnici îmi dădeau vertijuri. Săpam atunci o groapă şi le tîram rînd pe rînd acolo. Habar n-am dacă pentru liniştea lor sau numai pentru a mea. Acum stăteam lîngă bătrîna cerşetoare, la fel de neputincioasă ca şi ea. I-am întins banii. Ştiam că o să-şi cumpere de băut şi totuşi am lăsat banii să cadă în mîna întinsă.