POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE

Laurian STĂNCHESCU
Wilhelm Tell
Have you wondered how the arrow grows in the eyes
of the child that holds the apple
And how the imperceptible trembling of your mouth
looks like the crying of the stolen colt.

 

The fountain
You first hoe a deep fountain in the sky
Next to it plant the apple tree with fair flower
under which the house of clay rises its porch
and, by all means, the child with eyes like blaze, grows older.

Tell what you think about all that
Invading you like grass does after rain
The peace comes naturally, knocking at the door
Gets in and never leaves the room.
After a time
After a time I'm more
and more a swan
chased by the moving cane
ravished by the long shadow
of the cloud
Surrounded by the withered dreams
the summer of my life has passed
from one solitude to another.

 

Musical game
On the staves of the walnut table
Father DO in front of mother RE
On my father's left, there was me – MI
On my father's right, my sister – FA
There is also cousin – SOL
Next to LA
(the divorced aunt by SI
who was cheated on her with DO – the vamp)

And as we were staying in grandma's house
waiting for the coffee water and the fruit syrup
someone passes us throughout the Sunday violin
with moment's bow
a lonely capriccio
in an almost forgotten requiem.

 

Mills of wind
To Nicolae Motoc
The battles with the mills of wind haven't ended
Their rumble waves the chest of tomorrow
It poisons our blood with their useless
vanity
as painfully the translucent grape
confesses light under the press.

Our fear is now peter out
Another clank of weaponry is growing in the air
Would that be the silence of the fountain?
Death is the rightful punishment
for those
who still believe in immortal joy.

Torment
I'm gentle! The poet asked for forgivene
to the wild beasts invented by the sleep
which greedily torn apart his limbs
the chest the forehead the grey locks
Leave me alone I'm fading them away
the grasping snouts moist by the dreams
to listen to the horn that hesitating calls
on a land of unwritten papers...
I'm holding a word in my squeezed hand
a round and vague small coin of air.

Appeal
To Constantin Novae
Let's go old vagabonds!
Rare voices are calling us to havens
to the table with lame legs where
all the time
dreams don't cost years as here
How could I put it for you to believe me
I'm somehow oppressed by the time not delayed enough
wasted now as in the autumn the smoke
of the leaves that smolder burn the tender summer
for none of us could stop it,
and the nail frenzy gets in the hand...

For it couldn't be else, you see
we round our eyes around huge cage
and we can't see its bars – they grow in us
as in summer the shadow of the
poplars on the naked cheeks
Let's go old vagabonds!
Mistresses stopped coming to our bodies
to blow the snow on shoulders, on the head
Over the castles of sand the toothless Sphinx
is smiling
of how old we have been as early we were young

 

Translations by Olimpia IACOB