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Poem

Doina Ioanid

14. I peeled myself off you the way dead skin

I peeled myself off you the way dead skin peels off heels, abandoned you as if you’d been a much too chilly past, there, in the courtyard, where death was lurking in a tangle of danewort and burdock. It was a scorching summer afternoon and the air above us had nearly caved in. Back then I had the feeling I understood just what was going on, I felt I ought to let things run their course, the way a grown up woman ought to do. But then again, what good’s such cheesy wisdom?

14. I peeled myself off you the way dead skin

Ik heb me van je losgemaakt zoals je dode huid van een hiel losmaakt. Ik heb je verlaten als een al te ijzig verleden, daar, op het binnenhofje, waar de dood op de loer lag tussen kruidvlier en klis. Het was een snikhete zomermiddag en de lucht stortte zowat op ons neer in. Het kwam me voor dat ik toen heb begrepen wat er aan de hand was, dat ik de dingen op hun beloop moest laten, zoals het een volwassen vrouw past. Maar wat moet je met zo’n flutwijsheid?

M-am desprins de tine cum desprinzi pielea moartă de pe călcîie. Te-am abandonat ca pe un trecut mult prea geros, acolo, în curtea interioară, unde moartea pîndea printre bozii şi brusturi. Era o după-amiază toridă de vară şi aerul aproape se surpase peste noi. Mi s-a părut atunci că înţeleg ce se întîmplă, că trebuie să las lucrurile să curgă, aşa cum se cuvine din partea unei femei în toată firea. Dar la ce bun înţelepciunea asta de doi bani?
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14. I peeled myself off you the way dead skin

I peeled myself off you the way dead skin peels off heels, abandoned you as if you’d been a much too chilly past, there, in the courtyard, where death was lurking in a tangle of danewort and burdock. It was a scorching summer afternoon and the air above us had nearly caved in. Back then I had the feeling I understood just what was going on, I felt I ought to let things run their course, the way a grown up woman ought to do. But then again, what good’s such cheesy wisdom?

14. I peeled myself off you the way dead skin

I peeled myself off you the way dead skin peels off heels, abandoned you as if you’d been a much too chilly past, there, in the courtyard, where death was lurking in a tangle of danewort and burdock. It was a scorching summer afternoon and the air above us had nearly caved in. Back then I had the feeling I understood just what was going on, I felt I ought to let things run their course, the way a grown up woman ought to do. But then again, what good’s such cheesy wisdom?
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