POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE

Arthur PORUMBOIU

 

MISTER CHILD
Mister Child, a stem of
pure light, morning cheak
Kissed by aurora –
for me it is late! Icy hook
is the sleep , and there I hardly come
mouths thirsty for air;
a harsh light snowes -
my soul is the steamed groan
under the catapeteasma of the waters, blue.
Mister Child, rose cheak,
light another world!
Over the meadowes of my light
unfinished frosta fall.

STELLARS
Like the waves,never the same,
their shadows ran
over my crying head.
The stellars with pure souls
passed through transperant walls.
Their dark put on my face
torches
Their sleep enters the heaven domain
they bury their white hearts in lights.
From now on my blood Isn't sufficient enough,
the noice doesn't sense it:
I am just a musing estate and lilies.

A RULLER HEAD
A ruller head walke
Sleepless, quietless;
the rays surround it as a tree –
the winds kiss it as the sheaves on a stubble.
A ruller head walks over the horizon, in the distance
the eyes are not flames but swards fired by hate;
he doesn't know the string of the hours elapsed
as the rain in the ploughland.
A ruller head walks sleepless, sleepless
the ground doesn’t receive it, the monastery doesn't want it;
its sights are destroving arms, In a dom
of light – there is His settlement and praise.

VISION WITH HANDS
The hairy nanas stay up above
as two arm mouths, unseen,
the stay there and they change between them
imprevisl'ble gestures like the guillotine speed
or the spider walking
which builds up its veil
The stay above and they don't notice
the star head falling
and they don't feel the bloody mouth.

They stay above free
not stopped by the white swords –
they stay above and don't hear
the fire head rolling
they stay there and in the blood hot flares
they merely wet one finger!
they stay above and don't see the large breach
the fighter's sight

MY PROTECTORS
The eagles are arrow es
on the arch they keep in tension:
even the humble thistles
gather some sun
to load my life with the power of their smell
for me the fresh cloud fights
bring in my calcined stepps
a fertile wave;
and the strainer of the blood
(as the thirsty clay)
reccives  transfusions, and in arterie
as the gluttony in the young wolf –
hears flames that do not tear –
and stll asks.

GIORDANO BRUNO
I felt too
the Fear bistouries;
the rats of the darkness
as the hairy monks
they rubbed my lips
with blankets as the wire.
By Thought was sovereign to me
but I didn’t go to the end
nobody birought brushwood
for my stake
I don’t say that your ash
gave birth to a bud;
but I say: going to the end
means the very flight.
You knew it.
I look at my wings
disintegrating themeeles

GOOD PEOPLE
In thair home the noice of the cough
is interdicted; you're not allowewd but
to be sick at gr command;
to roll the scarf round your neck at an order
not to consume the contraband gestures
Reading with moderation not to beat ray the eyes;
the same with the smile and walking too. The Moon
B You nrray look at when you are told. Don't smell
the perfume on the dresses where the body,
the dear face let the imprint for ever
Don’t smoke.Don't use too much air. Be economical!
Put your head in the wardrobe,
eventually, give up the head.

SEPTEMBER
September(September (pale mudity
of the sky) it lasted a tomb over us.
I was a fighter in the last gala
September, September searched
by the high rays beating in aromas,
You buried the sun.
September.September solemn eagle
light your wings, run in the world!
My soul is sick
of one untouched
unbitten name.

Traducere în limba engleză de Alexandra Flora MUNTEANU