Octavian Paler

DIGUL

Marea loveşte digul pe care în seara aceea
n-am avut curajul să mergem la capăt. Piatra udă
luneca şi, la un pas de noi, era ruptă. Daca eram
neatenţi,
ne puteam prabuşi în apa ce fierbea dedesubt.
Dar am fost atenţi. Ca întotdeauna. Atît de atenţi
încat într-o zi vom renunţa să mai pătrundem pe dig.
Ne vom mulţumi să ne-aducem aminte de el,
apoi ne vom aduce aminte mai rar,
şi îl vom uita în cele din urmă,
vom uita că într-o seară eram poate hotărîţi să
mergem la capăt.
Acum, chiar dacă aş merge pe dig,
nu mai pot s-o fac decît singur. Pot aluneca
sau pot înainta curajos. E totuna.


THE JETTY

The sea is striking against the jetty on which that evening
we hadn't the courage to go to the end. The wet stone
was slippery and, at a step from us, was broken. If we weren't careful
we could fall in the water which was boilling below.
But we were careful. As always. So careful
that one day we'll  give up coming on the jetty.
We'll be content with remembering it,
then we'll remember it more and more rarely,
and in the end we'll forget it,
we'll forget that one evening we were perhaps decided to go to the end.
Now, even if I should go on the jetty,
I can't do it but alone. I can slip
or bravely advance. It's the same.