MILLENIUM
you doze in your armchair you dream
from the neighbouring cinema-hall
the effluvia of the nearly deceased century slip into your nostrils
the great deadly stench invades you
dracula frankenstein vladimirleon
joseph adolf papa doc
a fine lot of pressed figures now dilligently decaying
in the celluloid
at less than two steps’ distance
the merry hell the world turned upside-down:
popeye olive oil cinderella
snow-white the tin-man
andersen baum lear
bound close together
are driven on by a crowd of
sullen sadists –
you doze in your armchair you dream
from the neighbouring cinema-hall
echoes from a long gone age
from a remote end of a millenium
are assailing you
the rustling of the apple-tree leaves in eden
the call of the quail at dawn
the roar of the nemean lion
you answer them with a grin you say:
the cheshire cat
the snake hiding among the leaves
the big fish preparing
to swallow the small one –
you repeat it almost mechanically you scan it:
the trophic chain changes once
in nine hundred ninety-nine thousand years
and maybe
not even that soon
IN DECEMBER
in december
the honeysuckle on the terace
is as fragrant as in the summertime
three men
psalmists herbalists
scribes of the empire
proxies of the allmighty astrologists
masters of martial arts and letters
ventriloquists alchemists
holders of the great seal
the three of them are seated around a tin table
with cups in their hands
none of them gives the signal
none utters the magic word
they all know
in december
the terminator angel comes
from the mediterranean
carried in his white litter
ave proconsule
ave you sulphur stinking limper
ave you keen-witted lawgiver
ave
what once was
the promised land
is now a cyclope
reserve
what once was a stake a salt pillar
an altar for prayer or sacrifice
is now an oil well a stockexchange
a water trough for the sheik’s elephant
generalized mating
in december
the messenger makes his way into the city
incognito at day-break
he first stops by the oriental sauna
then at his advertising agent’s
by noon he has read the advertisement magazines
in a café
he is looking for
a new job –
the three
holders of the great seal
masters of martial arts and letters
ventriloquists proxies of the allmighty
scribes of the empire
psalmists herbalists
fortune-tellers alchemists
are still around the tin table
with cups in their hands
non of them gives the sign
none utters the magic word
they all know
in december
the honeysuckle on the terrace
is as fragrant as in the summertime
it might be time again
but the bets have been made
for two thousand years
nothing is new
Traduceri de Carmen D. Blaga