Juntando
hongos
Al
arrodillarse frente a la tumba de su madre y su padre
un
sabor a eneldo, o estragón-
que
apenas podía distinguir uno de otro-
llenó
su boca. Parecía como si pudiera ahogarlo.
¿Por
qué podría estar afligido
de dolor, no por su madre y padre,
sino
por una mujer escabulléndose de la piel de una nutria
en Portland, Maine, o, sí, Portland, Oregon-
como
si pudiera distinguir uno de otro-
¿y
por qué debería paladear el sabor
de
ella, su pequeño pepinillo encurtido,
al
arrodillarse ante la tumba de su madre y
padre?
*
Miró alrededor.
La recordó discutiendo
sobre
cómo la tierra y el cielo, ambos se oscurecerían-
“apenas
distinguirías uno del otro”
mientras
que las mariposas Monarca sobrevolaban
en su
hambre de panaderos. “El golpeteo de un ala, un pensamiento,
pueden
desatar a la madre y al padre
en todas las tormentas, golpeando tus Acantilados Irlandeses de Moher
con la fuerza de un huracán”
Luego: "Panaderos y Monarcas se "inventaron" unos a otros."
Luego: "Panaderos y Monarcas se "inventaron" unos a otros."
*
Buscó alrededor. Perifollo verde en un samovar
Había confundido el nombre de su madre, “Ari” “por Ira”,
Había confundido el nombre de su madre, “Ari” “por Ira”,
al arrodillarse ante la tumba de su madre y su padre
casi no podía distinguir uno del otro.
Versión: Marina Kohon
Gathering Mushrooms
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
the taste of dill, or tarragon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
filled his mouth. It seemed as if he might smother.
Why should he be stricken
with grief, not for his mother and father,
but a woman slinking from the fur of a sea-otter
In Portland, Maine, or, yes, Portland, Oregon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
and why should he now savour
the tang of her, her little pickled gherkin,
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father?
*
He looked about. He remembered her palaver
on how both earth and sky would darken-
'You could barely tell one from the other'-
while the Monarch butterflies passed over
in their milkweed-hunger: 'A wing-beat, some reckon,
may trigger off the mother and father
of all storms, striking your Irish Cliffs of Moher
with the force of a hurricane.'
Then: 'Milkweed and Monarch 'invented' each other.'
*
He looked about. Cow's-parsley in a samovar.
He'd mistaken his mother's name, 'Regan, ' for Anger';
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
he could barely tell one from the other.
the taste of dill, or tarragon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
filled his mouth. It seemed as if he might smother.
Why should he be stricken
with grief, not for his mother and father,
but a woman slinking from the fur of a sea-otter
In Portland, Maine, or, yes, Portland, Oregon-
he could barely tell one from the other-
and why should he now savour
the tang of her, her little pickled gherkin,
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father?
*
He looked about. He remembered her palaver
on how both earth and sky would darken-
'You could barely tell one from the other'-
while the Monarch butterflies passed over
in their milkweed-hunger: 'A wing-beat, some reckon,
may trigger off the mother and father
of all storms, striking your Irish Cliffs of Moher
with the force of a hurricane.'
Then: 'Milkweed and Monarch 'invented' each other.'
*
He looked about. Cow's-parsley in a samovar.
He'd mistaken his mother's name, 'Regan, ' for Anger';
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
he could barely tell one from the other.
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