Not published yet

(Trad. C. Iliescu)

It comes a day
When we must draw under ourselves
A black line.
And sum up.

Few moments when we were about to be happy,
Few moments when we were about to be beautiful,
Few moments when we were about to be brilliant.
Several times we met
Some mountains, trees and rivers
(Where might they be? And, are they still alive?)
All this sums up a shiny future
That we've already lived.

One woman we loved
Plus the same woman who didn't love us,
Make zero.

A quarter of your life of studies
Sums up some thousand million of fodder words,
Whose wisdom we have gradually dropped.

And finally one Fate
Plus another Fate (where does this come from?)
Make two.(We write one and we keep one
Maybe, who knows, there might be life beyond).

Not published yet

(Trans. A. Deletant & B. Walker, Forest Books)

I move a white day.
He moves a black one.
I advance with a dream.
He takes it to war.
He attacks my lungs.
I think for about a year in hospital.
I make a brilliant combination
And win a black day.
He moves a disaster.
And threatens me with cancer
(which moves for the moment in the shape of a cross)
But, I put a book before him
He's obliged to retreat.
I win a few more pieces,
But, look, half my life
Is taken.
- If I give you check, you lose your optimism,
He tells me,
- It doesn't matter, I joke,
I'll do the castling of feelings.

Behind me my wife, children.
The sun, the moon and other onlookers
Tremble for every move I make.

I light a cigarette
And continue the game.

Not published yet

(Trad. C. Iliescu)

They had been living long together,
And they had rather started to repeat themselves:

He was she,
And she was he.

She was she,
And he was she too.

Sometimes she either was, or she was not,
That's when he was one she, two shes, and many shes.
Such used to be life, more or less.

And above all, early each morning,
Till they would get at last to demarcate
Who was each one,
Where they did start and end
Why in this way and not the other one,
A lot of time was wasted,
As carried by a river time was flowing.
They even tried to kiss sometimes,

But suddenly they realized
That both of them were she.
Much easier to duplicate.

But scared by such discovery,
Both would start yawning
A yawn of softened wool,
Which could be even knitted, the way it follows:
One she yawned very attentively,
Meanwhile, the other she was due to hold the ball.

Not published yet

(Trans. C. Iliescu)

You're coming home
A bit worn out,
But satisfied.
Satisfied as a tram ticket
Showed to the collector
And punched exactly in the right place.

You've been unwinding generously
During the whole day,
And now you gather again, little by little,
You are waiting to rewind
And you return, you return from everywhere,
You return and you're never ending.

It's been a day like any other,
Full of achievements,
No sooner did you arrive at work,
Than you began to spread your own activity
On table, chairs, and telephone
And all surrounding objects meant for that.

You also faced some other tasks:
You asked for and you offered cigarettes,
You shook hands with at least one hundred fellows
Anticipating questions like «How are you?»
Before they had the possibility to ask you,
Thus managing to place them
In a position of inferiority.
And obviously you spoke all day, as usual,
Within the limits of the Current Romanian Language Dictionary,
Five thousand words or so.

And now while you are picking up the rust
From the key you forgot in your pocket,
The pebbles which got into your shoes,
Have now, one by one, slunk also in your soul.
And are so strangely jingling there,
Thus, now your children will have one more toy to rattle.

Even your nerves
Which have been so artistically twisted
All day long,
Will be in such a glorious way used by them
As a new buzzer for the paper kite.
In a few minutes, the kite will be joyfully hoisted
Over your house,
Signalling to the Cosmos that still,
Life does exist on Earth in spite of all,
and it's exploited to the maximum.

Not published yet

(Trans. C. Iliescu)

Since you, my Lord
Know me through a confusion
Always mistaking me with other men
I will again
Communicate with you
Through the delirium.

I beg you, Lord, to hear my delirium
Today again as everyday

But first
Look at the desert where
I preach.
You like it, don't you?

Those idiots who echo me
Belong to a random convoy
Of lunatics
Who are not bound to stay, so please don't mind them!

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