POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE

Anghel GÎDEA

HER SONG

First her bod y,

Then the blinking of her eyes,

Then the sparks in her hair,

Then her smile,

Then her whispers,

Then her gait,

And her footmarks,

And my passing by

Like some sort of song

Of all she was once…

 

THE LEAF

Stain of clogged blood,

Rash scorched by the white frost,

The tear of a tired god

Or the mark of an incurable wound,

The point of a copper arrow,

One drop from Monet’s brush…

All beside a leaf of hair

Caressed by the autumn

that keeps on lasting…

 

MOUTH OF SKY

Fear of night,

Fear of day,

And fears of the rest of them…

Fear of light,

Fie of dark,

Fear of brother

And fear of mother…

Only the trees

Turned grey because of frost

Call me out,

Call me out

Through a mouth

Of sky…

 

ABSENCE

The rains have broken their knees in the grass

And the earth seems to have grown larger,

I bear in my breast the smell of the woods

Lighted by a sky left unknown…

 

I wish you were here, nearby,

To call you out, the trees to undress,

My fairy from an old old tale,

To float along the herbs, we both…

The quiet light glides upon the boughs,

The leaves beneath the soles smell of death,

For us – it is the same way, my love,

It seems to be coming from afar…

 

ABOVE THE NIGHT

The ice lying idle on the eaves

And the icecles growing out from its gums

Look like a reptile fallen asleep

Leaving open to view tens of transparent teeth…

From the air another winter encicles me

As beautiful as she once was and whom

I do not love any longer, not even in my dream,

Or in the fields or in the woods…

Two strangers that meet now and then

Like alien beings under the boughts

Powdered with frost,

On the white of a silly planet

Over which clouds pass

Like some floating coffins…

 

THE SUN THAT COMES BACK

The young walnut – a cathedral of leaves –

It is burning…

But the flames are still afar

And have not reached it, yet;

Only their cold red heat,

Like the blood sprayed in the twilight,

Envelops me

And I fail to know when I go away

Or how long I stay,

When I, also, be incinerated

By these branches that guard me day by day

With a glass of wine in my palm,

Which I raise up and tinkle against the trail of the planes

That glide across the sky at sharp hours alone

And no longer stop, and they do not take me either,

And leave on my eyes but lints from their white tail

Like a tow of snow…

Traduceri de Olimpia IACOB