POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE

Cassian Maria SPIRIDON

 

INFERNALIA

 

whether we wish or not

We find out:

the heaven and the sin are blended

like the living and the dead

that still move on among us

with a corpse’s obstinacy

a world of today till yesterday

and still for tomorrow

like the butterflies round the lamp /ephemeral

 

wounded

the flesh quickly recovers

 

the god/

within us/wishes only the waste

food/for him in abundance

a night that keeps growing/in the minds

seized with doubt

the memories from other lives

are on guard

 

like a ball rolling downstairs

once/over and over again

you feel your body like a wheel

and you rise up/all full of wounds

equally alive

 

with a sore forearm

you gather yourself up from the grass

you tread among the future graves

you go on falling down

from night

into the following day

from dawn into the dusk

 

the zenith and the nadir

look counterforces that may be folded

like the sheet of the clouds

that covers/with wet cup glasses

the bulging breasts and the heart

/a torch whose wick alone

/red spot/

keeps flickering/

 

we row through the light

with wings

we advance/with uncertain steps

towards Infernalia

where

the everlasting silence

of the endless spaces

frightens

 

 

THRUST INTO THE LIGHT

 

the trees are pulled out

knocked down in the grass/ with dry arms

side by side

like an army after the battles

when the bodies/the flags/the guns

in the battlefield

lie fallen down

as were caught by the bullet or the shell

 

the trees are black/skeleton-like

in the sea of verdure

with flowers/in the plum-trees lining the edges

drawn out from the humus

their roots are full of / traces of earth

thrust into the light

 

AN ADVENTURE AT DAWN

 

we tread before the clouds

with steps of air

clustered in threads

they move / peacefully indeed!

( – what can the eye see from the skies – )

towards places known only by them

 

mountainous chains cross

the Ocean/with their whole

contour of shadow

on the ephemeral earths

on the face all wrinkles/

 

there rise long lines

border of waters

as after a twig

lashing the backbone/tense

I draw lines on the Ocean

we live to cross

a changing

geography

 

time is in chains

By your hand/that lingers

pale on my brow

 

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