Roxana Ilie (Romania)

Roxana Ilie (Romania)
Roxana Ilie is a translator from and into German, English, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian and Italian, she has translated from Spanish and from English into Romanian several poetry books, but also into German prose poems by Ștefan Petică, and from authors such as Sarah Fix, Dylan Thomas, Jürgen Egyptien, Ulrike Almut Sandig, Alma Lilia Luna Castillo, Miguel Pérez Corrales, Sérgio Lima, Kurt Tucholsky, Justo Jorge Padron, Gaetano Longo, Bernhard Widder, Marcel Beyer, Richard Huelsenbeck, Svetlana Alexievici, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Alessandro Baricco and Nora Bossong. A poetry book translated by her into English and a novel translated into Spanish are soon to be published.
She is a contributor to the cultural magazines Mozaicul, Bucovina Literară, Fereastra, Sisif, SpectActor, EgoPHobia and Lumina (Serbia). Her poems have been translated into Italian (Zeta Internationale, Udine, Italy), into English (SurVision Magazine, Dublin, Ireland), into Albanian (Bilingual anthology – Nine poets from Craiova), into Turkish (Șiirden Magazine, Istanbul, Turkey) and will be soon translated into Korean as well. She has received several important national prizes for her translations and for poetry; she translates every year for the poets invited at the World Poetry Festival “Mihai Eminescu” and she has been included twice in the festival’s anthology.
they will get tightened
maybe tomorrow you won’t know how to find
that massive oak tree in the backyard
on which grandma used to hang the laundry washed with domestic soap
out of grease in which you kept rolling your barren fingernail
hoping that that’s where all of your skins will gather
and all of your books sewed with thread from the silk casket
on the bed settee
you will be hiding there a long time, Domenik,
leaving the moths to come out of the wool afghan and yell cold features
dirty unstitched in the middle tightening your knotted skin and the elderflowers under the
roof of the mouth where grandma used to dip her black eyeliner
grandma only had Sunday clothes
for the odd days when the carts passed by on the road
“salt, salt, buy some salt, we have fish”
I know you will place it in the attic
like a fetus
between the laundry washed with domestic soap
smelling of shadow
beyond the fields
the world seemed dabbier as
the soles which are glued together
as the hunger that bonded the tongues with one another
crossing them in all the cardinal points
as they did with the barefoot women
from the corn field
with the sickle in their hands and the straw bundle
they only turn the bucket towards the sun
thinking that the waterhole cannot spot
the callosities on the
soles of their feet
their cracked heels
the dried earth on their calves
that the sweat on their thighs doesn’t roll down
but up towards their dusty dresses
or towards the lit up cigarette
their calves trembling under the heavy rain drops
from the greenish rain
the women on the fields are women of the rain
they don’t hide under the covered wagon where the barefoot children pull the horses’ tails
they lay down in the hayloft
with their dark
eyes and
it will abjure
I was kind of sick the other day
there was a caterpillar cuddled inside of me
it always went up only at night while I was asleep then went beyond me
during daytime it got stuck on my spine like an external bone marrow
“stop it, you, stop hitting me” it used to shout at me
but I wouldn’t listen and I wriggled like a snake
I knew what would happen
every three silences the caterpillar
will abjure me
and it will get stuck on someone else’s spine
well-behaved quiet I won’t even realize
when a nomad caterpillar
will take my place
I have been a blind
caterpillar with hands burned by the sun and the wind
I once rolled down the asphalt
close to my even larger edge
I picked up myself gently and placed myself in the palm of my hand
then blew greenish over me
this time wiping myself black
with the shirt collar
“why did you get away” I reprimanded myself
don’t you feel comfortable inside of me
I wouldn’t dare say anything to my own self
I the caterpillar
stood 3 silences next to my spine
and laughed

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