ENGLISH VERSION

CLOSURE

I wait at the window, on the balcony, the terrace. All ears
​Nope.    If I downed this cuppa, 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 white dove, friendly,
foraging--
I could name her. Keep her. Or maybe not?
​Water, water. Soap. Water. Scrub hard.
Again, I hear you
: cough. Cough.
Hang on. Two meters, 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. 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 splendor 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 by Albert Gatt
ORIGINAL TEXT

GĦELUQ

Nistenna fit-twieqi, il-gallarija, it-terrazza.  Nissemma’
Xej’.    ’Kk dit-tazza niblagħha f’nifs, u nersaq qrib
: nisimgħak tonfoħ.
​

Ma nafx ħitan did-dar humiex jitmermru,
dil-bejta ċjejkna, dal-kastellfortizza–
Messaġġ. U ieħor.
Ħamiema dħulija bajda
tgħarrex–

Nista’ nagħtiha isem. Nista’ nżommha. Jo?
Ilma, ilma. Sapun. Ilma. Ogħrok sew.

Qed nisimgħek, nerġa’
: tqaħqaħ. Tqaħqaħ.

Żomm. Kemm jagħmlu passi, żewġ metri?
Il-passi tiegħi u l-passi tiegħek mhux indaqs.
U tiegħi mgħaġġla u tiegħi kalma, lanqas.

Dak leħnek kien?
Ħames sekondi nistgħu? Għaddi sebgħek
: int minn naħa, mill-oħra jien
– nispellu l-għeja minn bejn ix-xquq.
Il-qanpiena. Smajtha?
Tal-posta. Wassalli l-versi
– għadhom jikwu :
Fuq l-għatba, fuq l-għatba. U jgħib.
Nitbaxxa. Neħodhom f’idi, kemm kemm
immisshom. Il-ġmiel tar-rażan.
Ninxteħtu niflu ’l xulxin mill-bogħod.

Kellimni, erġa’. Nitħajjar nibda
nġemmagħhom, l-ilħna mielsa,
imserrħin mal-kotba / fuq l-ixkafef.

Jum war’ jum, niċċassa
lejn ’it-travi : inkellimhom, ħadu l-ħajja
– imtlew żebbuġ, u l-arja u s-saqaf issa
tqalu sew.

Simone Inguanez

Simone Inguanez was born in Bormla, Malta in 1971. She is the author of ftit mara ftit tifla and water, fire, earth and I : a selection of her poetry translated into English (Tr. Maria Grech Ganado), and co-author of 7 poets 4 days 1 book.
Her poetry was translated into various languages and published in a number of anthologies and on various literary websites. In 2007, she was the recipient of a writer’s residency at the Iowa International Writing Programme (IWP). She has presented her works at a number of festivals and workshops.

Photo Credit: Thomas Langdon

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