POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE
Petre STOICA
For Hilly Regions
My lady with a fairy’s yellow name listen to me
the tramps the babblers roam in our dreams
they want to steal the colour of your hair to break the street
lamps of my syntax so that we should grope in darkness
in the coffin of the nut tree probably felled in the previous century
let us leave for hilly regions you’d better join
your red club to my black club in that way we shall be
merged butterflies the moment death storm descends
to shuffle the cards together listen to me in the name
of the sublime figure
to the end of time
I’m still picking roses solely for you
solely for you
today my antique love stories are
mere initials jumbling in a crumpling ossuary
you remain to the end of time
my noble anguish you also remain
the key of the gate that leads into the place
where time restores my power
of conjugating faith with justice
from the reaped roses I select a Gloria dei stem
laying it by your paper ship
that has entered the harbour of my solitude
English version by Gabriela PACHIA
