Constantin NOVĂCESCU

* * *

only the bell

still rings hoarsely

over the fallen



old walls forgotten instant

the emptiness

of the market of memories


* * *

when the words fade away

in the untouched water

steam of gold

fresh scents

on the athanor



in the twilight

like a sign

an urge to go


beyond the great passage


the flight


* * *

under an alien and empty sky

the incomprehensible play of butterflies

awakened from drowsiness

like a flood of colours


into the grey of the instant


ephemeral whirlwind  to an untouched horizon


only the song of the daring one

far in the echo

lost trace

strange silence


* * *

on the way

to the steps

of light


under the mantle of ash

the soul wishes the heights


over the stretch of purple

a voice hits the sandglasses

bell in time


(one can see far away)


a quiet angel

the flight


* * *

only the plays of the mind unveil

the fairy scene of the frozen fire

in the very heart of the ether


the heavy body of clay

fills the time’s sandglasses


and the angel the angel


* * *

when airy visions open

like nameless flowers in the athanor

gilding a dream of power


when the fire flames greedily lick

the seed of becoming

the breath of the stranger healing

lifts the word

the matrix of piercing


beyond the threshold

the soul lighting the way


* * *

the sea


always impatient

idly dissipates

the light


the endless multitude

of eyes


deep endless


stirring  the smell of salt

the waves dash against the shores


slowly chisel

my face of stone


* * *

I look in the mirror

that keeps your face


our faces burn in blue ─

frozen time

whirling overflowing


words are not heard



in waiting


the glass

English version: Olimpia IACOB & Jim KACIAN