Traduceri poetice (vol. 1) [17]
Pr. Dr. Dorin Octavian Picioruș
Traduceri poetice
(vol. 1)
*
Zoë Hitzig[1],
Algoritmul regretului limitat[2]
A mea este o viață dedicată
calculării pierderii.
Nu știu cu certitudine
aproape nimic.
Și totuși, iată-mă aici,
luând legiuni de decizii în fiecare clipă.
Scopul meu este să-mi organizez
registrele aidoma unui craniu.
Un loc pe care mi-l imaginez plin.
De foi de calcul
care ocupă locuri precum orașele.
Funcții nedefinite
care se compilează perfect.
Explorează, înregistrează,
explorează, înregistrează,
explorează, înregistrează.
În cele din urmă,
învăț să limitez pierderea.
Ajung să știu unde
nu ar trebui să merg:
scara de incendiu,
coduri poștale cu impozite mici
pe proprietate,
unele medicamente,
unele locuri de muncă.
Apoi pragul dincolo
de care sunt doar un avion.
Ocazional zbor pe rute noi,
dar nu încarc niciodată
mai mult de câteva sute de pasageri.
Nici să nu avansez în secvența cerului
care vibrează
în spatele cerului
pe care deja l-am văzut.
Niciodată pilotul care se dezbracă
într-o suburbie
după ce zborul s-a terminat.
Apăsând o mână neînchisă
pe fereastra rece a dormitorului.
Ana Săndulescu[3],
Discipline is the only acceptable
form of quietness[4]
In the morning,
people in the elevator avoid eye contact
as after something said too close.
You introduce each other to see
if anything alive remains between the floors,
and someone feels the need to say
that he was there before you.
Parents leaf through the newspaper
and stop at your photo,
as if they were holding in their hands
the fragile proof that life can be moved
to another city without breaking definitively.
Online, seventy likes, then the flow continues
with disappearances, minor accidents,
lost dogs and discounts on household appliances.
The world moves on without noticing
that you had, however, an important day.
Discipline is an acceptable form of quietness.
At squash you hit the ball with
disproportionate energy,
as if you were trying to straighten
something invisible.
In the office, a banal conversation
leaves behind a metallic taste and
the sensation that some functions
are just seats occupied long enough.
A resume begins to be written
in your head that resembles a breakup letter.
The day, secretly,
resembles with a small victory.
You buy secondhand clothes
for your grandparents,
convinced that care is collected in cotton
and in buttons that have survived other lives.
At home you water the plants.
They don’t ask you what your plans are
or if you’re happy, they just grow,
and that starts to seem like
a higher form of intelligence.
The city announces a cyclone
that is not coming.
Parents retrieve their children,
supermarkets empty out,
and you arrive home with the feeling
that you avoided something important,
even though the storm almost
never comes as promised.
You cook salmon, you kill digital monsters,
clean little revenges, perfectly acceptable.
The cat seems to die for a bit, then comes back
and forgives you without explanation,
which makes it
the most mature being in the house.
You light two candles in the bathroom,
not for atmosphere,
but as a repetition of an older version
that believed in rituals.
On the bedside table,
the books pile up
like alternative lives tried before sleep.
Discipline is a form of quietness.
In interviews you are generous
and coherent.
In reality, you save energy
as if it were money set aside
for an unnamed emergency.
In the evening,
the life happens a little later.
You fall asleep early.
Almost ashamed of how much fatigue
can fit into a body that hasn’t done
anything spectacular.
Today you wrote fifteen hundred words.
The rest of the time you learned
what life looks like when
you don’t turn it into text,
but carry it with you,
discreetly, like a scent that lingers
on your clothes long after you’ve left the room
and closed the door.
[1] Pagina personală a autoarei: https://www.zoehitzig.com/.
[2] Am tradus poemul de aici: https://poems.com/poem/bounded-regret-algorithm-2/.
[3] Pagina personală a autoarei: https://anasan.ro/.
[4] Cf. Ana Săndulescu, Disciplina e singura formă acceptabilă de liniște, în rev. Luceafărul de dimineață, nr. 4, aprilie 2026, p. 4. Poate fi downloadată de aici: https://www.luceafarul-de-dimineata.eu/pdf/revista_LUCEAFARUL_DE_DIMINEATA_nr_4_2026.pdf.