Poem
Răzvan Ţupa
ROMANIAN HITS
What they once called youth is gone and nothing has taken its place When it’s raining Bucharest huddles like an adult who remembers every beating inflicted in childhood We too have known dime-a-dozen communists who were wonderful grandparents and we enjoyed dumb-as-a-post Securitate agents who had their good sides (they were specialists in something, they had read) We were convinced that the informants had good souls but had made bad choices Heaven doesn’t crack open it just constantly streams a liquid that reveals your true face I don’t even try to dodge you but we spare each other, my city We hate each other so politely that in good moments we’re downright friendly this happens all the time We avoid each other and mind each other as little as we can especially since we already suspect We’re each the other’s city Nothing can be sadder than five minutes too long in front of the shawarma joint Everything’s great. The parcel of spiced, seasoned meats smells a bit sour, mouthwatering for five minutes, or so. On this rainy day like a wet dog in front of the shawarma joint we abandon all that keeps us from crying. We don’t say anything. Only the nearly inaudible rustle of the plastic bag that you’re squeezing in your hand You leave everything on the table. Napkins are the most discrete Your mud is my mud and we’re happy after a shower at home
© Translation: 2011, Răzvan Ţupa
AANRAKINGEN
Wat iedereen jeugd noemde is vergaan en er is niets voor in de plaats gekomen Als het regent maakt Boekarest zich klein als een volwassene die zich elke aframmeling uit zijn kinderjaren herinnert Ook wij hebben driestuiverscommunisten gekend die geweldige grootouders waren en We genoten van halvegare Securitate-agenten die ook hun goede kanten hadden (ze waren expert in iets, belezen) We waren ervan overtuigd dat de informanten een goede inborst hadden maar ze hadden het slecht getroffen, zoals wij, zoals ook jij De hemel splijt niet open maar er stroomt aanhoudend een vloeistof die je je ware gelaat toont Ik probeer je niet echt te mijden maar we sparen elkaar, mijn stad We haten elkaar met zoveel fatsoen dat we op goede momenten ronduit lief zijn het komt vaak voor We houden ons in en schenken elkaar zo weinig mogelijk aandacht vooral omdat we nu al vermoeden We zijn ieder voor de ander de stad Niets is zo triest als vijf minuten langer voor de shoarmazaak Alles is geweldig Het pakje fijngehakt vlees met kruiden en specerijen het ruikt zurig, bemoedigend maar niet langer dan vijf minuten, of zo Op deze dag als een natgeregende hond voor de shoarmazaak scheiden we van alles wat ons belet te huilen Nee we zeggen niets Enkel het almaar zwakkere geritsel van het tasje dat je in je hand samendrukt Je laat alles op de plastic tafel De servetjes zijn uiterst discreet jouw slijk is mijn slijk en beiden zijn we gelukkig na een douche ThuisATINGERI
Ceea ce numeau toţi tinereţe s-a dus şi în locul ei nu e nimic Când plouă Bucureştiul se chirceşte ca un adult care îşi aminteşte bătăile mâncate în copilărie Şi noi am cunoscut comunişti de doi lei care au fost bunici minunaţi şi Ne-am bucurat de securişti bătuţi în cap care aveau părţile lor bune (erau specialişti în ceva, citiseră) Am fost convinşi că informatorii au suflet bun doar că au nimerit prost şi noi, ca şi tine Cerul nu crapă doar curge constant un lichid care îţi arată adevărata faţă Nici măcar nu încerc să mă feresc dar ne menajăm reciproc, oraşul meu Ne urâm atât de decent că în momentele bune suntem duioşi se întâmplă des Ne abţinem şi ne băgăm în seamă cât putem de puţin mai ales că ne bănuim deja Fiecare suntem oraşul celuilalt Nimic nu poate să fie mai trist decât cinci minute în plus în faţa şaormăriei Totul e minunat Pacheţelul de carne mărunţită cu mirodenii şi condimente miroase acrişor, încurajator doar cinci minute, atât În ziua asta plouată ca un câine în faţa şaormăriei ne despărţim de tot ceea ce nu ne lăsa să plângem Nu spunem nimic Doar foşnetul tot mai palid al pungii pe care o strângi în palmă laşi totul pe masa de plastic Şerveţelele sunt cele mai discrete noroiul tău este noroiul meu şi toţi suntem fericiţi după duş Acasă
© 2011, Răzvan Ţupa
From: „poetic. cerul din delft şi alte corpuri româneşti”
From: „poetic. cerul din delft şi alte corpuri româneşti”
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Poems of Răzvan Ţupa
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ROMANIAN HITS
What they once called youth is gone and nothing has taken its place When it’s raining Bucharest huddles like an adult who remembers every beating inflicted in childhood We too have known dime-a-dozen communists who were wonderful grandparents and we enjoyed dumb-as-a-post Securitate agents who had their good sides (they were specialists in something, they had read) We were convinced that the informants had good souls but had made bad choices Heaven doesn’t crack open it just constantly streams a liquid that reveals your true face I don’t even try to dodge you but we spare each other, my city We hate each other so politely that in good moments we’re downright friendly this happens all the time We avoid each other and mind each other as little as we can especially since we already suspect We’re each the other’s city Nothing can be sadder than five minutes too long in front of the shawarma joint Everything’s great. The parcel of spiced, seasoned meats smells a bit sour, mouthwatering for five minutes, or so. On this rainy day like a wet dog in front of the shawarma joint we abandon all that keeps us from crying. We don’t say anything. Only the nearly inaudible rustle of the plastic bag that you’re squeezing in your hand You leave everything on the table. Napkins are the most discrete Your mud is my mud and we’re happy after a shower at home
© 2011, Răzvan Ţupa
From: „poetic. cerul din delft şi alte corpuri româneşti”
From: „poetic. cerul din delft şi alte corpuri româneşti”
ROMANIAN HITS
What they once called youth is gone and nothing has taken its place When it’s raining Bucharest huddles like an adult who remembers every beating inflicted in childhood We too have known dime-a-dozen communists who were wonderful grandparents and we enjoyed dumb-as-a-post Securitate agents who had their good sides (they were specialists in something, they had read) We were convinced that the informants had good souls but had made bad choices Heaven doesn’t crack open it just constantly streams a liquid that reveals your true face I don’t even try to dodge you but we spare each other, my city We hate each other so politely that in good moments we’re downright friendly this happens all the time We avoid each other and mind each other as little as we can especially since we already suspect We’re each the other’s city Nothing can be sadder than five minutes too long in front of the shawarma joint Everything’s great. The parcel of spiced, seasoned meats smells a bit sour, mouthwatering for five minutes, or so. On this rainy day like a wet dog in front of the shawarma joint we abandon all that keeps us from crying. We don’t say anything. Only the nearly inaudible rustle of the plastic bag that you’re squeezing in your hand You leave everything on the table. Napkins are the most discrete Your mud is my mud and we’re happy after a shower at home
© 2011, Răzvan Ţupa
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