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| PoemeS i NúmeroS -il·lustració de Marína Marcolin- |
Los números
(Mary Cornish)
Me gusta la generosidad de los números.
La disponibilidad, por ejemplo,
que demuestran para contar
personas o cosas:
dos pepinillos, una puerta de habitación,
ocho bailarinas engalanadas como cisnes.
Me gusta la docilidad de la suma
-añadir dos tazas de leche y batir-,
su sentido de la abundancia: seis ciruelas
en el suelo, tres más
cayendo del árbol.
Y la tabla de multiplicar
peces por peces,
su lomos plateados reproduciéndose
bajo la sombra
de un barco.
Ni siquiera la resta representa una pérdida,
sino incorporación a alguna otra parte:
de cinco gorriones echaron a volar dos,
los dos están ahora
en otro jardín.
Hay una amplitud en la división,
cuando abres la comida china
cajita a cajita,
y dentro de cada galleta de la suerte
aguarda una nueva fortuna.
Y nunca dejaré de sorprenderme
por el regalo del resto,
liberado al final:
cuarenta y siete dividido entre once es igual a cuatro,
y quedan tres.
Tres niños a los que llaman sus madres,
dos italianos haciéndose a la mar,
un calcetín que no está dondequiera que busques.
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Numbers
(Mary Cornish)
I like the generosity of numbers.
The way, for example,
they are willing to count
anything or anyone:
two pickles, one door to the room,
eight dancers dressed as swans.
The way, for example,
they are willing to count
anything or anyone:
two pickles, one door to the room,
eight dancers dressed as swans.
I like the domesticity of addition
-add two cups of milk and stir-
the sense of plenty: six plums
on the ground, three more
falling from the tree.
the sense of plenty: six plums
on the ground, three more
falling from the tree.
And multiplication's school
of fish times fish,
whose silver bodies breed
beneath the shadow
of a boat.
of fish times fish,
whose silver bodies breed
beneath the shadow
of a boat.
Even subtraction is never loss,
just addition somewhere else:
five sparrows take away two,
the two in someone else's
garden now.
just addition somewhere else:
five sparrows take away two,
the two in someone else's
garden now.
There's an amplitude to long division,
as it opens Chinese take-out
box by paper box,
inside every folded cookie
a new fortune.
as it opens Chinese take-out
box by paper box,
inside every folded cookie
a new fortune.
And I never fail to be surprised
by the gift of an odd remainder,
footloose at the end:
forty-seven divided by eleven equals four,
with three remaining.
by the gift of an odd remainder,
footloose at the end:
forty-seven divided by eleven equals four,
with three remaining.
Three boys beyond their mothers' call,
two Italians off to the sea,
one sock that isn't anywhere you look.
two Italians off to the sea,
one sock that isn't anywhere you look.
