By : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash
Translated by : Ioan Voicu, former Romanian Ambassador to Thailand
In a New York Hotel
On thirty-eighth floor
(and others vertically
stacked below and above)
rows of closed doors stare
with white blanks
of things unidentified by numbers
odd numbers and even ones
serialized along lengths
of faceless labyrinths;
echoes not permitted
(let alone sounds)
footfalls silenced
prenatally murdered by polite
carpet that yields to foot-weight
and springs back to delete
foot-print (or anything with
the slightest resemblance
to impression)
coldness creeps
in the deep-carpeted
centrally-heated corridors
where locked doors shields
lives, loves, pains
disappointments, lonelinesses
hopes and dreams
that are rooted in other places
Photo by Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash
Intr-un hotel din New York La etajul trei zeci si opt (si altele dispuse vertical ingramadite jos si sus) randuri de usi inchise se uita unele la altele cu spatii albe goale de lucruri neidentificate prin numere, numere pare sau inpare serializate de-a- lungul unor labirinturi fara fata ecouri nepermise (ne mai vorbind de sunete) pasi adusi la tacere, asasinati inainte de nastere de covorul politicos care cedeaza la apasarea pasilor si se intoarce la loc pentru a sterge urma pasilor ( sau orice altceva ar lasa cea mai mica asemanare de urme imprimate) fiori glaciali in coridoarele inzestrate cu adanci covoare si incalzite central , unde usi inchise ascund vieti , iubiri, dureri, deceptii, singuratati, nadejdi si vise inradacinate in alte locuri.
Your litterary soiree organized yesterday recalled good memories, in particular the celebration of the Romanian poet Lucian Blaga and your wonderful, unforgettable interpretation of some of his poems.I transcribe for you one of them.