9/8/2020 We, Who Were at Troy LETTERS JOURNAL Literature | Art | Spirit W E , W H O W E R E AT T R OY Octavian Paler (1926-2007) translation by Carla Baricz I This love— this merciless light, that wills me to recall everything, and this sky, as I know it, shimmering after the rain, the sky like the cheek of a child. But who will listen to such consolations? Perhaps we were naïve when we boarded the ships, we believed everything we were told, like our blood the sea boiled, and when the waves grew silent, only our presumptuous speech could be heard, so convinced were we that wisdom’s words are hollow. Later, our ship wandered through nights in which the light was a strange sort of memory, between the white birds that ew between us and our mistakes, and only death divided us from the gods. Why must I have been guilty, when all I wanted was to keep faith? www.lettersjournal.com/we-who-were-at-troy/ 1/5 9/8/2020 We, Who Were at Troy Sometimes the wind makes me believe that everything lasted only a moment, when we both felt abashed and did not know what to say. But who will listen to such consolations? And the white birds that ew over the sea, between our shadows and the gods, remind me that I am myself and no other, that we are ourselves and not others, we who were together and alone at Troy. II We left behind so many seas and mistakes that I must ask myself, why was this all necessary? Why did we need regrets to learn to love? Why did we need all this, why? Yes, it was necessary. It was necessary, perhaps. It was necessary perhaps rst to be guilty so as to learn to love. It was necessary to mistake so as to know the end of mistaking, and, perhaps, only those who were at Troy have the right to say that they know all about love and the shore. No one will ever know better than we what love means, for no one lost it and dreamed of it as we, because no one needed to be more painfully silent, hoping that one day we would shout: Behold www.lettersjournal.com/we-who-were-at-troy/ 2/5 9/8/2020 We, Who Were at Troy the shore! Because no one saw as we did the dusty star of loneliness alight in our hands, while we covered our eyes to better remember. And again the sky as I know it, shimmering after the rain and I ask myself, perhaps for the last time: Why was this all necessary, these things I can no longer redeem but by loving harder the shore on which I stand and dream of one day nding it? And, above all, why are we guilty that all this took place, when all I wanted was to keep faith, when all we wanted was to be like the birds, who care neither for gods nor time. III But now I know death exists and the shore, too, the empty beach at dawn, and the remains that accuse us, the ships that took us to Troy, and the loves for which we had not enough time, the memories, and the cawing of seagulls, the sand to which I clung naked at noon, and the empty place beside me, all exist, only youth has passed us by in this too long besieging of Troy, in this error towards which we casually wandered. Oh, murderous taste of departure! www.lettersjournal.com/we-who-were-at-troy/ 3/5 9/8/2020 We, Who Were at Troy IV For years we wandered the seas, and when we returned we understood how little we had strayed from the shore. In fact, we had not strayed at all. We were still there and we loved the same things, only we we older, and we found it dif cult to smile. We lost at Troy the habit of an easy smile. And we love differently now, more sadly. Otherwise, we are the same, and we love the same things, we love… V We are tired, and only death now divides us from the gods. We have seen the hourglass sift its sand, and one of us used to say that even graves grieve, not only those who’ve descended to ll them, and, perhaps, it is tting, otherwise graves would conquer the world. We are tired, but we, too, know now what the gods know. Perhaps more. We have discovered in ourselves the most important thing a man must know: This love, this light and the merciless wind that wills us to recall everything… www.lettersjournal.com/we-who-were-at-troy/ 4/5 9/8/2020 We, Who Were at Troy Carla Baricz’s essays, reviews, and translations have appeared in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Ploughshares Online, The Marginalia Review of Books, World Literature Today, Words Without Borders, as well as in foreign language publications and academic journals. Born in Romania, she earned her Ph.D. in English Literature from Yale University and currently lives in Jerusalem, where she is a lecturer in the English Department at Hebrew University. 0 Shares www.lettersjournal.com/we-who-were-at-troy/ 5/5