Sunday 28 October 2012

Din ceas dedus adancul acestei calme creste

Good night, comfortable 59,
Good morning, fiery 60!

O sara buna, liniste inceata,
Si buna zi, vijelioasa veste!
SIXTY

To drink the wine of sixty drums
And patch things up with rough and knotted wool
I would have ridden sixty fiery steeds
All springing from the dragons' stables' womb.

Who knocks? Who dares? Who's in need
of warmth and piteous mercy's
icy drops?


Who knows... Who'll ever know?
Who truly cares,
if winds do bite, or soothe, or whisper,
or wipe one's brow with golden laurel leaves?
SIXTY

Sixty freezing drops of rain
Sixty rancid crumpled leaves
Sixty tearful eyes of wax
And as many candid ribs

To run, to hide, perchance to sigh
to curl, take shelter or resign
wipe palms and feet and  knitted brows
and swallow the submerging vine

The loneliness is quite complete
And silence reigns
The window bites
And we can barely, barely breathe...

Monday 22 October 2012

Cum ai putea atuncea sa nu crezi
Ca vesnicia-i murg si lin descantec?
Intrebare cu talc (2)

Am vrut deunazi sa te intreb
de te-ai lasat candva  in voia unui cantec,

De coama ti-a saltat nalbind
copitele pe caldaramul umed

De bici de-ai ascultat incremenit
Pe nari adulmecand frunzisul muced

Cum ai putea atuncea sa nu crezi
ca vesnicia-i murg si lin descantec?


De ziua ta
stiu ca-ti doresti anume
un fruct, un melc, un miez de stea,
o boaba luminoasa de rasina,
un clont de-argint, o acadea,

un semn ce nu se poate cere
si care nu se poate da.




Sunday 14 October 2012

Impression

A ladybug landed on my gray jacket today, tentatively at first, and then coming closer to my heart.
" It  brings a message from Corina," I found myself thinking and then I smiled.

Saturday 13 October 2012

Inrebare cu talc
( pentru Florian Pitis)

Voiam deunazi sa te intreb
De te-ai lasat vreodata-n voia unui cantec

de-ai scuturat din coama inganand
ragazul dintre doua note

genunchii de ti i-ai inlantuit
patruns de dangatul din bolte.

Friday 12 October 2012

Gitana
Pentru Ion Barbu

Priviti-ma, doamna, drept in fata
Nu talpa vopsita, nici palma ridata
Nici bratz arcuit peste
Fusta tocita si creatza.

Nici pulpana viorie, umflata de vant
nici sideful curelei
petrecute de-a curmezisul
atarnand

Nu spre carambul ghetei descleiate
Sub camasa groasa de in
Lipita de trup
Si-ncinsa la spate


Uitati palaria, pana, vioara
Nu-mi iscoditi
Printre dantelele-ncalcite
Subsuara.

Catati-mi spranceana, bobul din ochi
Buza rasfranta
Suflarea amara
De nu va temeti de dedeochi.

Thursday 11 October 2012

Sixty Candles...

... a sea of trembling, naked flame
  dodging the potent winds on winding paths,
  a  glowing warmth enveloping the fog
  against the whispers of the endless night
  sometimes as silent witness of despair
  and others as bewildered chirp of joy.

Who thought of dressing all the inky wounds
to curb the fever in these tired soles?
And why this mirthless, whinig harph
is dripping grains of light from all its pores?

Too late. The yawning, slouching truth
Won't be  delayed, or fooled, or bribed.



Lumina lina? ( pentru Ioan Alexandru)
Sau Moartea citeste ziarul ( Pentru Mircea Dinescu)


Reteta de facut lumina

Peste un oloi plin ochi de rugina
Moartea cloceste si cerne lumina
Broboada-i  de neguri si zoaie si scrum
Si poame de smoala si zdrente de fum

Ea mesteca, schiauna, falcile-si toaca
Un hohot lugubru  in cremene sapa
Amara latura  gatlejul i-l arde
Cand curge, prelinsa, prin vintrele-i fade.

Isi plange povara, se-ndoaie si latra
Scobita si surda si oarba si moarta
Cand tristul ei scancet de noapte se spala
Lumina irumpe fierbine si goala.