Tucu MOROSANU
LATE WAY
Surrounded by the night’s fauna,
In the sleepy forests an outcast
I again take the late way to you
And you will be sleeping
With the same story
About him who once made
Become friends once more…
Two little cuckoos
In the dream of a nest…
LONGING
In the night’s lap
A cool blow coos
In the blood of the mountain,
Vague longing,
Quiet for long.
Still in bloom
In the thoughts’ grinder
Your image and your fear
of another dissipation.
BUT AUTUMN
My forefathers call me home.
The paths linger knotted,
The staff wants to be full of sips,
But autumn following me close behind gasps.
Maybe it is still time for arriving
I can see a cross and a walnut-tree in my mind
And the spectre of the forest whispers to me
For I come but to go away.
SPOILT AUTUMN
Spoilt autumn,
How long will you
Be staying with me,
What’s in your mind?
So young were we, both, once
When we first met,
Which of us today
Would like to be a lover again?
SCENT
The night loses
Wandering thoughts
Broken from its lap,
The forest holds me
In its secrets¾revolt¾
And in buds of late song
Holy shadows step on waters
Whence the natural scent nearby comes
I simply fail to know.
THE INNKEEPER
A new dusk grows
Rough and deep.
The magic makes a halt
At the forgotten inn.
The longing and the memory
Drink by the flames playing
And the dream falls asleep
In the bosom near the basil.
NOON
Crucified on a ray
In the sky waters
A vulture takes aim
At the lazy eye
At noon.
THE POET
His words he
obstinately sends to light
even when he feels
like an innkeeper
whose wine runs short
on a Sunday day.
HAY-HARVEST AT THE BREAK OF DAY
Some transparent torpor clings to the eyelashes
Chirps of bird keep boiling in the walnuts
At full speed shadows of horses and scythes
Among the cicades sigh of forefathers
With measured tread the strange round dance begins
The time makes some of us keep quiet
The story opens up with … Once there was
Hay scent under the skirts of the queen of the night.
Traduceri de Olimpia IACOB
