The short years

The short years, here they have come
The old meanings  unfolded by themselves

All that strength in vane.
The meaning I had lost
The false meaning, disbanded
The frail heart.
Reality, how queer
The compact cold.

And the memory, stripes, stripes.

Feathers flying from an old pillow.
Take a step and you ram
The unseen wall.

You reach out with our hand and recover it bloodstained.

(The Terrace with the bay-trees – poems – Dacia Editions -1985.)

The landscape of my absence

I have never been in San Diego;
Nevertheless I dream of this place time and again;
“Dream “is an improper term, I’, using it
only not to frighten you;
I might have said “I imagine”
And if you ‘d promise forbearance, I confess
There I am.
I am in san Diego; I get lost;
Dusty vegetation. There is this most domestic
Hour of the day
Between four and five, approximately.
I feel my feet of clay as if
They were the glassy stare of imminence in my neck;
Lost is any path; *If I spoke, the sound would unravel in this heat
Even more I’d estrange not hearing myself
I’m well aware, San Diego is now to the right.
Another hog. Rubbles anew.
Instantly the ocean and the sky, a single whitish rule.
Existing for me, sneaking into my self
This blue poison of eternity.

I have never been in san Diego
If I close my eyes and bring my arm
Close to yours, I can say:
I am in san Diego .
Confided by this whitish universe;
Prepared for me; Devouring. The dusty, ghostly
Shore stretches behind.
The landscape of my absence.

(From the book The landscape of my absence – poems – Editions Cartea Romaneasca -1981 )

Short Courage

A broken dream that you recall.
Is that the illusion
Of the last summer?

There are some things that
I wish to be embodied today
And a few serene sorrows
I cannot break away from.

The thrill inside my body. What could
Made myself understood? Even my
Way of being-a fastened wicket-
Stands against me.
Even the rediscovery
Of the old symbols. (There on
An already dusted console-table)
Yet beyond strains
There still is something frail and innocent.
“The nut-cracker” for instance.
Or the completely different way take
When writing.
The vine arbor.  A test of virtue. A
Tiny lover you call in whisper.
You lure her with open arms
On the opposite bank.

Translated by Oana Tomoioaga
In” Poetree bilingual Anthology “Editura Mesagerul Bistrita “2007.Main concept,introduction,support material,personal notes and monitoring provided bu Rodica Bitezaty teacher of English at the”Liviu Rebreanu” High School,Bistrita

Naïve song

The glory lies only in beginning
To be followed by an uncertain age
Dedicate yourself, stay receiving
The shadow of a bar in ca cage.

Much is unworthy, uncertainty bringing
Much is unusually just
The glory lies only in beginning
Ti be followed by tired dust.

Much of the courage lies midway
Much has no, history , untrimming
And mostly on illusions we stay

The glory lies only in beginning. The queen with the steps flights – poems – Price of beginning of Editions DACIA – Cluj Napoca – 1978.

The withdrawal from a dream

The withdrawal from a dream
More and more toilsome it seems.

An engine hums all the night long.
A nameless victim in the light shaft.
And the gummy scare of loneliness;
The written word
Turns into spurs, poplarpurs
Loitering slovenly in the neighborhood .
(I thought I were endless
now that I have born you!)
An acacia laver in the streets. Forgotten
You turned to stone, you turned
To charcoal.
You glance
At your bitten fingernails only;
Whereas life, in the inkpot.

1987 (from Almost imaginary)

The Summer Storm

And she was hidden somewhere
In the velvet coat’s hem,
In the unknown fold of the evening.
Warm, warm
The way the pain looks at the beginning,
The one you do not believe in.
And yet it appears.
This is a deep outburst. It looks like a summer storm.
The wind has entered through the oberlicht.
It has upset the vessel on the table.
The cords have snapped.
While she was somewhere
Well-hidden, extremely beautiful, solemn,
And only by abandoning her, could you have kept
Her first image, very pure.

From ”Almost imaginary” Cartea Romaneasca Editions 1987
Translated by Ludmila Neagu
(From Poetree bilingual anthology main concept introduction ,personal notes provided by Rodica Botezatu (Mesagerul 2007)

The shadow, light of solitude

Unalike you were and what you touched by sight
Was instantly tamed .This fact
Sweetly tired me and suited you.

The natural order I no longer grasped
What’s proper and what is not
I no longer grasped,fascinated
By your wretched shadow on the bright wall.

You were the shadow and you were the light
An now
Me solely
The shadow light of solitude
Me solely smiling bitterly

In winter’s frame

And where’s that happy simplicity?
Right now I’m fancying your fancies
How vane everything around is!
Only my dream left:
We were warming each other ‘s palms
You smiled ; I started wrapping you
Into the naive story
Long ago
When you were unalike and what you touched
Was instantly tamed.

The Terrace with the bay-trees – poems – Dacia Editions -1985.

Translated by Zorin Diaconescu

Intimate

Amazing. A deer

hit in the highway traffic. A tender illusion, a hope.

How do I live?

In a garden of dream wrapped in cold.

I am (still) afraid of old age. I hope

one day to write as lady Duras does;

the boy is growing. What about life?

A deer hit

in the highway traffic. (translated by Ludmila Neagu)