Marin Sorescu

Dear Everyone,

I've just discovered the poet Marin Sorescu (1936-1996) and his translated book of poetry 'Hands Behind My Back'. Here's one for you that hit my right between the eyes.

GETTING USED TO YOUR NAME 

After you've learned to walk,
Tell one thing from another,
Your first care as a child
Is to get used to your name.
What is it?
They keep asking you.
You hesitate, stammer,
And when you start to give a fluent answer
Your name's no longer a problem.

When you start to forget your name,
It's very serious.

But don't despair,
An interval will set in.

And soon after your death,
When the mist rises from your eyes,
And you begin to find your way
In the everlasting darkness,
Your first care (long forgotten,
Long since buried with you)
Is to get used to your name.
You're called--just as arbitrarily--
Dandelion, cowslip, cornel,
Blackbird, chaffinch, turtle dove,
Costmary, zephyr--or all these together.
And when you nod, to show you've got it,
Everything's all right:
The earth, almost round, may spin
Like a top among stars.

--Marin Sorescu
translated by Gabriela Dragnea, Stuart Friebert, & Adriana Varga

Photos taken in Pallady's garden with Mihai last summer.