Vlad NEAGOE
* * *
Faltering seed cast into furrow
prepares us to forever return
to uselessness of the commencement
from that remote instant where
secretly stop paths, into the peaceful
dust the lonesome seed is waiting
for the unspoken appearance to sprout
from charity of vain moments disrupted
from a new sun.

* * *
And we turn it. And we turn it, the chaos’ shirt inside out into a descending system of values, into
a globalization of the futile – we have all  reasons to give joy to our shadow we are flutttering more and more feebly through a veil,
the evening air under the whitened appletree remains thinner behind your steps, my Beloved, everlastingly, increasingly uncertain is disrupting the frozen rustle into the woods. What is forbidden by Time?

* * *
The temporization of the denouement
will probably never come with all
nights at once this end lacking
outlook, the great coral cold –
without ceasing the death to dawn
is percolating into the refuge
of the day through clear chambers
after uttering the first human word -,
you will no longer slumber alone,
life has recognized you, light
as well from the first flash where
struck is the place by invisible airy
forms who are writing to us anomalies,
memories flowing pyramids as a delta
overflowed on a plain this day
will be of no use, our already seen
remembrances annul one another, one
next to other and, however, they uphold
you by a clear array of gestures.

***
We will gush altogether into a bundle in an airy
garden from silences where only remains make you
dream of what we were before living, before dying
but nowhere as in this mauve bundle veiling
the secret throne which is pervading as a flash
of lightning through storm – around you celestial
spheres are ascending to make you exhilarate with
their fragrance, listen to your sonorous longing
the pristine, solemn harmony spread on arcade of
rainbows along the enormous waterfalls where creatures in these
limboes begin to keep silent
you, eternal movement, you eternal echo undefeated
by any sound are you still hearing me?

* * *
Horizons merging with spontaneous mirrors
multiplying into your miscellaneous eyes –
the outlooks of dawn are travelling since you,
Beloved, into the hollow of your body, are
swigging avalanches of suns, you render the major
rhythm dissolved into melody to rushing crowd,
overwhelm the Son of Man who is anytime ready
to laugh, weep, sing into the little sensual
fire what strange surges and skies does he awake
into soul and separates them from your circular
walls starting in the evening with the sway
of the sorrowful, full of remembrances wind –
an endless war is waged in darkness, whispers
only you don’t know what fear of remaining
all alone in pitchy dark means – you, Abyss
with so many voices and hues, above you pushing
forward the rocky walls and crushing wave
by the calf in sonorous suffering we’re awaking
the children belonging to another times.

TraducerI de Liviu NEAGOE