The stray wind wipes its cold tears
on my window.
Hazy sadness overcomes me, but all
the pain I feel,
I don’t feel it inside
in my heart
or in my chest,
I feel it in the drops of rain.
And grafted on my being the colossal world
with all its autumn and the evening
hurts me like a wound.
Above the mount clouds with heavy udders hover.
And it’s pouring.
III The Shadow
Pan plucks honey
in the shade of a walnut tree.
monasteries multiply in the woods,
and he’s upset by the glimmer of the cross.
Martins fly around him
and elm leaves
Under the vesper bells Pan’s sad.
On the strait path walks the moonlight colored
Had seen in Pompeii that Roman dog.
Contrived by the goddess of fate –
molded in the stuff of death,
never to rot in tempest or wear.
He’d tried to escape the cloud from the door,
during the burning night fallen from high.
Yet, with a twist and a sneer,
The dog biting the ash expired.
I see you my God – ash, lead and cloud –
coming above me like storm,
from the mountain of flame, invading it all.
I’ll make it to the door. Then
I’ll taste in You the ash of the world.
I’ll keep Your pattern for ages.
When each of our blood cells
becomes a heart,
But only love tries us this way.
My blood – a sea without earth.
Arise above me.
Hover over my lands,
like the lonesome spirit
above primordial water.
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
is moon coming down on earth.
So we might think, so we might say:
moon passing through the woods
through lilies and blue dew
conceiving from bitter light
and sweat wind
Ophelia, Margaret, Beatrice.
You’re one of the them yourself
a fragment from the Sonata
that was never played.
One more year, one day, one hour –
and beneath my feet
all roads shall vanish.
One more year, one dream, one slumber –
and all my resting bones
shall hail me as a prince below the ground.
Traducere de Ştefan Bolea