Constantin ABĂLUTĂ
SOMEONE WHO FAILS TO KNOW ME ROAMS
ABOUT THE STREETS
butterfly
you have settled right on my hand
are you not afraid that I might devise
a death coveted by kings
for each
of your colours
how alien is my arm to me
when your wings gently quiver
the void of he who I have never been invades me
THE SWARD TURNED YELLOW
dark sky
the trees even
darker
they have switched on a bulb they can hear
the footstep of a passer-by
you have received a letter
if you do not open it
you will be another man
every day you can see people in the streets
in the evening you throw youself down onto the bed
on the agenda
among so many projects
a flea jumps
on the glossy glass
there comes out a small room
two minutes ago
the clock rang
part of the time is up
all these clothes
on the move in the streets
all these hats
that shelter
the heads
down the traffic light
the drops keep dripping
the sward turned yellow
from under a stone
ants start moving in a long line
someone passes by
a bucket full of water
EMPTY SPACE
in memoriam Nino
the sun alone
and the branches
my friend
is now
on the other side of time
to whom are these streets
of use
to whom the shadow of the fence
I smell the air
it smells of nothing
two poets
in a hospital room
never do we know when it is for the last time
lines
trails on the window
I have left the lock
in my pocket
the house has been left unlocked
the sparrows
may come in
o, Issa
I have dew
on all my fingers
dew
empty space
UNDER THE OPEN UMBRELLA
I forget so many things
my absence makes the trees come nearer
the sky
small clouds white
as snowfall
on the table the pile
of visiting cards
my eyes I cover with my palms
I avoid the light
in my own yard
empty rooms
the night is long
the whizzing
of the branch falling
before the statue
when I entered the tube
all the people were laughing
sad
as if I had spoilt
something on another planet
on the letter-box
the shadow of the sleeve
it snows
in the park under the open umbrella
there is no one
a squirrel
rummages in a garbage can
IT SEEMED TO LOOK AT THE SKY
I look
in the distance
the branches falling
light
the sky
the calendar leap
has the corner folded
swimming through the rusty leaves
the lame
sweeper
o sparrow pecks
the button of the door-ring
on the pavement
on the rubber trail
the shy sky
someone intuits
the flavour of every line
on the lake
driven away by the wind
an open umbrella
that stone seemed
to look at the sky
IN THE GARDEN WITH ONLY ONE FLOWER
the pair of scissors is not there
where did you put it yesterday
match strikings
in the cold kitchen
in spring
the fog covers
the books the looking-glass
the old woman in the lift
inquires me about
the year we are in
two clouds become all one
then they vanish from sight
so scribbled
the glass
looking onto the orchard
on the church wall
the blind have a rest
among the shadows of the branches
it rains in the garden
with only one flower
Traduceri de Olimpia IACOB
