Doar vrabia

Din cate stiu
cerul meu e sustinut de doi piloni
ce se rasucesc si se inconvoaie
ca furtuna,
ca marea,
ca noaptea vazand rasaritul cel dintai.

Si atunci
cand vad o vrabie numai
tinand cerul sa nu cada
cu piciorusele in sus
in stele, in nori, in crudul soare

cum sa nu ma culc si eu cu spatele sprijinit de pamant
atunci cand cerul cade?

numai ca moartea, ca si viata e o iluzie.
ma adancesc in pamant, si nu vad cum cerul se prabuseste in mine

Nocturna

Si tusea pare vie
la ora din noapte
cand smochinii se usuca in gradina.

E martie, iar
se apropie si toti stiu
ca nu se poate trai fara absurd.

O ruga, un cantec de neliniste
prin vazduhul neinflorit
de stele, de luna si nici macar de mana ta.

as dori sa fii aici sa vezi nesomn in somn adanc
neiubind, iubita stang.

Yellow

I’m walking the fine yellow line
step by step
I’m breaking rhythm
where others have walked before
where the dogs rot
Beyond freshly painted fences

The stench is in the air
on the fine yellow line
but I’m walking
like I’ve never walked before
one foot in front of the other
looking down
looking up
smiling at you
Screaming inside
on the yellow line

Waiting for the roots of the trees
To catch me by the ankles
and carry me
under

the yellow line.

The last poem...

...nobody will believe in

Reality is coincidence of minds
In folds of time
In the sands of space

We meet
And everything stays the same
Nothing changes
In a changing world

Because we are synchronized in that which makes us existent,
We meet each other
In quantum coincidences.

Bucuresti

Ma infasor in jurul tau,
Si de la glezna iti sarut tot corpul
As fi putut sa vad tot saltul.

Doar ca
Ma lumineaza o lumina, uite!
aici si aici
o umbra si nu stiu
daca ai pasi sau sta

Iar de sprijin, ma vei gasi
cu o urma de pantof pe fata mea,
razand aiurea, fugind sub tine


eu sunt cea de care tu nu poti scapa.

My you yours

I do not wish to write a praise
to youth
words live only to serve unknown purposes that men share at will
half by that, half by what they mean.

there is a lack of I in me, for I feel so loved by you
and in that way I may lose myself,
to that place where I am no more

Heart-strong,
My voices call you that way
And it’s fair for them to do so
so unfair for I to write a praise
Yet what better use to such lines to give
but to let them be

You are heart-strong,
Heart-warm, heart-given

And if no such word exists
I’ll write it down in your palm,
I’ll whisper it into your breath
So a lung can explain it better
in a language that only your chest-cage knows
as it merges into meaning.

will you understand my necessity of words?
or of gesture...
I will be able to say “I love you…”
and instead of this praise
Outside insults will cease to touch you

we will be enough,
and therefore die.

not Rodin

Am pornit
spre necunoscut
nu ma mai pot opri
cu o mana legata de san, cu ochii in orbitele
adanci
cu pielea asmutita
spre frica.

Si ranjesc printre cusaturi
si-mi port mandra bratul pe soldul cazand...
Ea ma asteapta.

Ma inconjor in zi si in lumina ca sa ma vada mai bine
’omul mergand’
sunt eu.