Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin

AMONG THE CHINESE LANTERNS

244 ʱʰʸʲʨʮˋʬ ʲʹʩʦʲʰʩʫ ʯʹʩʥʥʶ ʨʱʩʠ ʯʩʠ ʱʰʸʲʨʮˋʬ ʲʹʩʦʲʰʩʫ ʯʹʩʥʥʶ - ʯˋʸˌʨʱʲʸ ʸʲʣ‫ٷ‬ʱ ʯˋʮˌʸ ʯʥ˦ ʬʨʲʬʡ ˋ ʪˌʰ ʬʨʲʬʡ ˋ ʱʩʥʠ ʩʩʦ ʯʢ‫ٷ‬ʥʥʹ . ʪʲʬʢʲʥʥˋʡʮʥʠ ʲʣʩʩʡ , ʱˋʬʡ ʯʥʠ ʷʩʣʫʲʬ‫ٷ‬ʷ , ʬʨʩʮ ʱˋʣʥʡ ʩʩʥʥʶ ʩʥʥ - ʲʷʩʸʲʩ . ʬʢʩ˦ʹ ʭʲʣ ʯʩʠ ʷʩʨʫʩʬ˦ ʩʦ : “ ʱ ʯʲʥʥ ' ʯʲʹʲʢ ʱʰ ˋ ʬˌʦ , ʯʩʩʡʰ˦ʬʲ ʪʸʥʣ ʭˋʬ˦ ʩʥʥ ʭʥʠ ʪʩʦ ʨʸʲʷ ʨʩʩʷʰʩʩʹ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʯʥʠ ... ” ʨʸʲ˦ʨʰʲ ʬʢʩ˝ʹ ʸʲʣ : “ ʯʩʩʹ ʨʩʰ ʨʱʩʡ ” . ʨʬʫʩʩʮʹ ʩʦ . ʣʩʩʸ˦ ʯˌ ʦʩʠ ʬʫʩʩʮʹ ʸʲʣ . ʷʑ ʩʥʸ ʪʩʦ ʱʩʥʠ ʯʲʩʶ ʨʰʲʤ ʩʣ ʯʥʠ , ʨʩʩʸʡ , ʨʷʥʶ ʵʬˋ ʩʩʦ ʯʩʠ ʬʸʲʣˌ ʯʩʩʬʷ ˋ ʸˌʰ . ʯʥʠ ʨʷʥʷ ʯʥʠ ʨʷʥʷ ʩʦ , ʣʬʥʣʲʢ ʯʥ˦ ʲʷʱˋʮ ʲʩʥʸʢ ʩʣ ʪʩʦ ʳʩʥʠ ʳʩʥʸˋ ʨʩʶ ʸʲ ʩʥʥ ʣʬʥʹ ʯʥ˦ ʬʫʩʩʮʹ ʯʫˋʥʥʹ ˋ ʯ˝ʩʬ ʲʫˋʥʥʹ ʩʣ ʳʩʥʠ ʯʥʠ . ʯʲʣ ʷʩʣʬʥʹ ʸʲ ʦʩʠ ʸʲʡˌ , ʸʲ ʦʩʠ ʸʲ ʱˌʥʥ ? ʣʬʲʤ ʯʩʩʷ ʨʩʰ ʨ‫ٷ‬ʥʥ . ʨʢˌʦʲʢ ʨʬˌʥʥ ʸʲ : ʸʲʩʬˋʥʥˋʷ ʯʩʩʷ ʨʩʰ . ʬʲʡ ˋ - ʮ ʬ˝ʥʨʮ ʡ‫ٷ‬ʥʥ ˋ ʷˋʬʹ ˋ ʨʩ . ʭʥʩ ˋ ʪˌʰ ʪʩʦ ʨʷʰʲʡʸˋ˦ - ʡʥʨ . ʡ‫ٷ‬ʬ ʷʩʨʫʩʬ ˋ ʪˌʰ ʨʩʩʸʣʸˋ˦ ʪʩʦ ʯʥʠ . ʩʦ ʦʩʠ ˒ʥʥ ʯʥʠ , ʣʩʩʸ˦ ʩʣ ? ʯʲʥʥʲʢ ʨʩʰ ʬˌʮ ʯʩʩʷ , ʯʲʷʰʲʣʲʢ ʯʲʷ ʸʲ ʨ‫ٷ‬ʥʥ ʩʥʥ . ʷʩʣʬʥʹ ʸʲ ʦʩʠ ʯʥʠ , ʸʲʮ ʨʩʰ ʨʶʩʠ ʸʲ ʳʸˋʣ ʸʹ˦ʠ ʦˋ , ʩʥʥ “ ʱʮ‫ٷ‬ʨ ” ʷʩʨʹʩʸ˦ ʭʥʶ , ʨʱˌʨ ʨ‫ٷ‬ʶ ʸʲʣ ʥʶ ʯʲʷʩʹʨ ʯʥʠ , ʨʩʩʷʮˋʦʰʩʩʠ ʬʱʩʡ ˋ , ʸʥʣ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʦ ʯʥʠ ʦ‫ٷ‬ʸʷ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʦ ʯʥ˦ ʣʰ‫ٷ‬ʸ˦ ʨʩʮ ʱʠʥʮʹ ˋ 245 AMONG THE CHINESE LANTERNS In the East Side restaurant, among the Chinese lanterns their silence speaks like the leafed pages of a novel. Both of them motionless, round and pale, like two middle-aged Buddhas. She, fleetingly, in the mirror: “if a miracle happened and my beauty returned like a flame through ivory . . .” The mirror replied: “You are not beautiful.” She smiles. A joyless smile. And her hands extend calmly, broadly, only a small vein keeps quivering. And she stares and stares as he draws upon himself the grey mask of patience, on his weak lips a wan smile of guilt. But should he be blamed for being what he is? Far from a hero. He would have said: not a cavalier but a man burdened with children and a shrewish wife. Longing for a holiday, for a bright body— confusing himself. Where is she, the joy? Never was, as far as he can remember. But is it his fault, if perhaps now he needs only the Times with breakfast, toast and chicken promptly, a little solitude, needs conversation with friends of his generation 246 ʨʥʢ ʩʥʥ , ʯʣʰʥʨʹ ʪʸʥʣ ʨʸˋʤ ʯʢ‫ٷ‬ʥʥʹ ʯʲʷ ʩʦ ʱˌʥʥ . ʯʲʣ ʱˌʥʥ — ʯʣʰ˒ʥʥ ʩʣ ʯʱ‫ٷ‬ʸ˦ʩʥʠ ? ʯʷʩʬʡ ʩʣ ʪʩʦ ʯʶʩʩʸʷ ʸʲʱʲʡ ʯʬˌʦ , ʯʬˋʹʦʰʩʷ ʲʨʸʲʥʥˋʹʦʸˋ˦ ʩʥʥ , ʨ ʩʩʥʥ ʨʩʰ ʨʫʲʸ ʥʬʩ˦ˋ ʯʲʰʲʷ ʱˌʥʥ ʯˋ , ʯʬˋ˦ ʸʲʨʸʲʥʥ ʲʷʩʨʬʩʢʫʩʩʬʢ ʯʬˌʦ ʯʥʠ ʯʨʩʩʷ ʯʥ˦ ʵʬʩʸʢ ʯʨʩʮ . ʯ˦ʸˋʥʥ ʥʶ ʩʥʥ ʸʲʱʲʡ ʵʬˋ : “ ʲʦ , ʯˌʨʲʢ ʨʱˌʤ ʥʣ ʱˌʥʥ . ʨʰʲʤ ʲʷʩʣʰʲʬʨʸʲʶ ʨʩʮ ʨʣʰʲʬʸˋ˦ ʪʩʮ ʨʱˌʤ , ʨʰʲʤ ʲʫˋʥʥʹ ʲʰ‫ٷ‬ʣ ʨʩʮ ʨʸʲʨʹʲʶ ʪʩʮ ʨʱˌʤ , ʸʲʮʲʸˌ , ʲʦ ... ” ʪˌʣ ʯʥʠ , ʪˌʣ ʯʥʠ ... ʲʢ ʣʩʩʸ˦ ʯʦʲʥʥ , ʯʲʥʥʲʢ . ʲʡʩʬ ʯʥ˦ ʯʲʬʢʸˌ ʩʣ ʨʸʲʤʲʢ ʨʩʰ ʯʲʣ ʩʩʦ ʯʡˌʤ ʨʩʥʨ ʯʥ˦ ʨʰʲʮʩʰˋ˦ʮˌʷˋ ʯʸʲʨʰʥʠ ? ʨʥʬʡ ʲʨʹʨ‫˝ٷ‬ʲʢ˦ʩʥʠ ʱˌʣ ʨˌʤ ʯʥʠ ʨʥʸ ʩʣ ʨʹʨʰʲʡʲʢ ʨʩʰ ʯʲʣ ʸʲʫˋʬ ʲʢʥʬʷ ʲʬˋ ʯʥ˦ ʨʰʲʤ ʩʣ ʯʩʠ ? ʸʲʡʩ˦ ʸʲʰʲʩ ʯʥʠ , ʸʲʰʨʸʲʢ ʲʷʩʣʸʲʮʥʦ ʯʥ˦ ʵʰˋʬʢ ʸʲʰʲʩ , ʵʰˋʬʢ ʯʥʠ ʸʲʡʩ˦ ʯʥʠ ʭʥʸˋ ʸʲʨʸʲʥʥ ʲʫˋ˦ʰʩʩʠ ʩʣ : “ ʸʲʡʩʬ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ . ” ʸˌʩ ʯʶʫˋ ʸˋ˦ ʯʥ˦ ʪʲʬʨʸʲʥʥ ʲʢʥʬʷ ʲʬˋ ʨʩʮ ? ʷʩʣʬʥʹ ʸʲ ʦʩʠ ʯʥʠ , ʥʶ ʯʢʩʥʠ ʩʣ ʸʲʨʶʩʠ ʨʫˋʮ ʸʲ ʡʩʥʠ ʥʸ ʸʩʠ ʯʩʠ ʭʲʸʥʨʹ ʯʸˋ˦ ʠʸʥʮ ʱʩʥʠ ? ʨʷʥʷ ʩʦ , ʥʠ ʲʬˌʮʹ ʲʸʩʠ ʸʲʣʩʮ ʯʸʲʥʥ ʯʢʩ , ʸʲʣʩʮ , ʨʰ‫˦ٷ‬ ʭʩʠ ʨˌʤ ʩʦ . ʸʲʣʩʥʥʸʲʣ ʸʩʠ ʦʩʠ ʸʲ . 247 with all those clever quips of eighteen years ago? And is he guilty if now he closes his eyes out of fear of the storm after her calm? She stares. Her narrowing eyes become wearier, wearier. She hates him. He is repugnant to her. How commendable that she can be staunchly silent for hours. What then—lacerate the wounds? Better to cross glances like rusted daggers that can’t wound properly, and let indifferent words fall with the harshness of chains. Still better than to reproach: “See what you’ve done. You’ve annihilated me with tender hands, you’ve destroyed me with your weak hands, pitiful one, look . . .” And yet, and yet . . . there was joy, there was. Didn’t they hear the music of love under the accompaniment of death? Did the aroused blood not bless the whip in the hands of the clever mockers? And that frenzy, that shimmer of summer gardens, and the frenzy and shimmer around those simple words: “my beloved.” 248 ʩʩʦ ʯʡˌʤ ʯʥʠ ... ʸʲʡʩʠ ʷʩʶʸˋʤʮʲʸˋʡ ʨʢˌʬʹ ʸʲʰʬʲʷ ʸʲʣ : “ ʩʩʨ ʸʲʣˌ ʲʥʥˋʷ ʩʣʩʩʬ ʩʣ ʬʩʥʥ ? ” 249 And have they. . . the waiter interrupts mercifully: “Would the lady like coffee or tea?” ...