Emilian MARCU
The Snake (II)
It writhed a while there at the border of the field
it’s skin soaked deep with dust and perspiration.
The passers-by stared at it as if a danger on the watch:
But it just stretched as if a flight intention.
The ants and grass invaded it
just scrapes of skeleton were scattered.
The passers-by still saw it on the warch
the snake but died and slowly dissapeared.
And there remained, from that time, kind of emptiness,
the snake had penetrated through the smoky dust.
Out of the rest of poison and of mud
The passers-by still felt the danger cast.
Faintly Snowflakes a-looming from the Mounts
Till there – ice cap,
your limpid eye will ripple its song
that way the spring young willows spins among.
Here is October, the frost, grown thick,
virgin bedings, calling death
your armour girding, and wrapping you.
Scales – shifting mirrors,
till there, be musik, just musik,
there is a way to get to the shinny realms.
Till there the snake
will candle with the its pupil’s cold
eternities of lying lays of frost.
Octomber again.
The mount becomes covered now flakes and the winter awaits
faint slow, mountin snow
dressed in high your –
extremely glow –
Traduceri Radu TĂTĂRUCĂ
