It is time for the plane to pass

I am seized with coolness/ the crickets sing

over the hills and houses/ at ten o’clock at night

the plane passes by

left at the far end of the world

here/where all the stars are put in good order

my life is marked by knots

a new one always catches me/more tightly

than living creatures caught in seines
caught in snairs of air

only you and your heart understand

a hand-knot on the line of life

and fires

bullet after bullet

 

it is time for the plane to pass

more and more muffled is the rumble/ in the air

and the crickets/ with singing forearms

conquer the night

 

 

They are astounding

the sun comes down/ sinks in the Romanian plain

yellow/after the crop

gently/ reconciled it lies under the last ray

like a woman fulfilled with her each child born

 

under the long arm of autumn

heavy with tears

we advance through the evening’s wound

thrilled by the future cold

with uncovered heads/ as in a convoy

we are welcomed in the arms of pallor

above the sickle of the Moon

rises/sharply

 

soon

like sugar powder/over the furrows

snow falls

there are huge furrows/

endless in their length

they look like slices/cut of the wedding cake of Gaia

so/ stock-still in the cold

they are astounding/

like metaphysics

 

 

* * *

lost on the ways of life

as roebucks are

lost like the last line

the creator of the poem

could no longer write

or dictate

 

lost/as everybody/

neither sadness is willing

to keep the umbrella for me

nor joy/gently exalted

 

in fact/who/ of the small fortune of instants

to waste

when our shadows are made shorter

by a head/ by the red sun

and we behave/as one can see

lost on the ways of life

as were and are

the slaves on the Milky Way

 

where is flesh and my heart

crushed by your palms

upon which the flat blocks of stone find rest

 

between the planks of iron

etiolated rises rhetoric

 

what’s life today and tomorrow

 

 

Dance in the mirror

pairs/pairs

come into formation/with guided movements

come and leave the windows of the mirror

 

bitter and dear

blood and wine

in dark waters

find reconciliation

in fire works and coloured thoughts

 

the Moon/with its full light

lays secrets in strange pallor

purplish/mantle of powders

 

I bite at the red fruit

of pain

flesh turned to autumn/of the hermit

 

the paths are long

indebted

to the steps that sadly overflow

with wines
thrust into the light

 

the trees are uprooted

 

knocked down in the grass/with dry arms

one beside another

like an army after battles

when bodies/flags/weapons

are fallen

on the battlefield

caught by bullets or shells

 

the trees are black/ skeleton-like

in the sea of verdure

full of flowers/in the plum trees on the margins

withdrawn from humus

they have their roots/with traces of earth

thrust into light

 

English version/ Traduceri: Olimpia Iacob & Jim Kacian