WLT Student Translation Prize – Poetry
I go out into the street with the angel
by Linda Maria Baros
I go out into the street with the angel.
Like a chain coiled around my hand.
Whitened by the lime of the walls.
The men that I meet
lick my hand and my ankles,
follow me closely.
I tread on them
like on burning coals,
like on waves, like on rooftops.
I feel no pity
for the men who love me.
My chain has opened snakelike pupils
on their backs.
Those who have slept at the edge of high rooftops
now bow to me;
those who have carried their lungs
to the depths of the waters
– like scrawny hunting dogs –
and trained themselves to breathe there.
The others – the civilians – bow to me from beneath.
Rendered comatose.
Those whose teeth have been shattered by an iron bar.
The magisterial clinics, the matchmakers.
The disinherited of fate bow to me, the contusions, the cough.
Perhaps under the bed rifle barrels
still smoke.
I went out into the street with the angel. I return home.
Like a chain coiled around my hand.
Translation from the French
Editorial note: From La nageuse désossée. Légendes métropolitaines, © Linda Maria Baros (Le Castor Astral, 2020).