Nymph
I come from water – dive and surface
swim dive and surface
and stay
or dart away
if you come close i’ll dart away
i’m an island
sometimes i rise to light – let go where it sparkles
water sparkles and water soothes
or it blinds
but my eyes are sealed no body shines in them
if you move close i’ll burst them
i’m a creature of water – water moulded me
sometimes it lulls me sometimes it wakes me
waves dance like fire waves dance
but waves stay coming and going
– fire does not leave
if you come near i’ll end my life
translated from Maltese by Maria GRECH GANADO
Narcissus grows from your hands
for you because water fell on your shadow
i am not, look closer
– and you will not see me
because i am not, except what you make of me
for you
you try to bind me
bond on bond, knot on knot
– and each knot tangles you
ties you ties you, so you are entangled
– in every cord’s knot, and you are conceived
with me
and you are not remember
– whether i’ve ever seen you
because you are not except what i make of you
for me
i struggle to grasp you
i stop racking and knotting
and i let you
dissolve – into nothing
translated from Maltese by Maria GRECH GANADO
some day i’ll create you
some day i’ll create you ma – to speak to me
some day i’ll create you to see you smile
we’ll run away and spend the night walking and stop sometimes
and i’ll show you the air and water – i’ve wished for years
to show them to you
every time i turn you’re not there
some day i’ll create you now that you’re orphaned
i wish to nurture you
– if you let me
translated from Maltese by Maria GRECH GANADO
Closure
I wait at the window, in the balcony, the terrace.
All ears
Nope.
If I downed this cuppa, and came a little closer
: I’d hear you exhale.
Maybe the walls are crumbling in this house,
this little lair, this castlegarrison–
A message. And another.
A friendly white dove
foraging–
I could name her. Keep her. Right?
Water, water. Soap. Water. Scrub hard.
Again, I hear you
: coughing. Coughing.
Hang on. Two metres, how many steps is that?
My stride and yours aren’t the same length.
Neither are mine and mine, when I hurry, when I stroll.
Was that your voice?
Can we for just five seconds? Draw your finger along
: you on one side, I on the other
— spelling out exhaustion in the cracks.
Doorbell. Did you hear that?
The postman. He’s brought me verses
— still piping hot :
On the threshold, the threshold. And he’s gone.
I bend down. Pick them up, just barely
touching them. The beauty of restraint.
We scrutinise each other from afar.
Talk to me, again. I might start
a collection, honeyed voices,
leaning against books / on shelves.
Day after day, I stare
at the beams : I talk to them, they’ve come to life
— laden with olives, and the air now and the ceiling
are weighing down.
translated from Maltese by Albert GATT