POETRY

Kienet f’idi

Skoprini, qaltli.

F’rasi leħħet
il-bjuda
ta’ ġisimha niedi
u demmi libet
jaħraq għat-togħma
ta’ laħamha għeri
misjur f’passjoni
ta’ nar bati.

Skoprini, qaltli.
Qaxxarni.

Kienet f’idi – patata –
tistenna t-tħejjija
għal-laqgħa ma’ fommi
’il barra mill-ħolm.

 

 
It lay in my hand

Delve into me, she said.

My mind ablaze
at the sight
of her dew-white body
and my blood races
yearning for the taste
of her naked flesh
cooking over
a passionate, simmering heat.

Delve into me, she said.
Peel me.

It lay in my hand – a potato –
waiting, preparing for
the meeting in my mouth
somewhere beyond dreams.

Translated from the Maltese by Claudia Gauci

Hy lei yn myn hân

Bedjipje my, sei se.

Myn tinzen gleon
by it sjen
fan har dauwiete liif
en myn bloed brûzet
langjend nei de smaak
fan har bleate hûd
soarjend, oersiedend
in hertstochtlike hjittens.

Bedjipje my, sei se.
Skyl my.

Hy lei yn myn hân – in jirpel –
wachtsjend, him klearmeitsjend foar
it treffen yn myn mûle
earne foarby dreamen.

Oerset út it Malteesk/Ingelsk troch Ernst Bruinsma