Unde am pierdut toamna cu diminețile argintii?
O jumătate de soare descris în acuarelă se prelingea printre frunze
tălpile răvășeau pământul alunecos
buzele sărutau, din nou, cerul meu nesfârșit,
și am adormit acolo sub salcie, departe de timpul care curge
eu și un câmp neatins în culori și schițe de umbre
veșnic tânăr în vise și cuvinte…
I want to write a poem about a time I have forgotten
I want to sing a song we played a life ago
running long the streets to another half-full café
where people kept smoking and beer was cheap,
do you remember the guitar riffs
and the full glasses with good words to sip,
used to get drunk on glances and the last Sunday hit
your red ribbon on that sky blue dress
I’ve danced you baby to the last of my deep breaths…
I want to write the words, all that I have promised
I want them engraved on a stone from the sea
for the world to know and your heart to feel it
all that’s been missing is what we left behind,
I do remember the walks in the park
pride made us wrong and guilt drove me crazy,
my way took a wrong turn and I could not find you
I took a chance to ask a big diamond
and the sun went purple in a pool of free stars…
I want to write a poem about a good time
I want to sing a song about tomorrow…
I got shot in the dark
with the gun I used to break their hearts
shattered in a million pieces all I’ve left is broken wishes
missing form the greatest puzzle
the wrong answers to the right questions,
they will paint my face on the bigger picture
tell me stop
ask me be better
held on to the feelings my chest could not gather,
I have seen you naked but my skin was covered
taking in the space between us, the whole grew larger
nothing more to share but attaching distance
you call the rains but the soil is poison
and I want to grow and seed a forest, larger than the world…
Beautiful borders that we forgot to seal
turned from yellow flowers to red brick walls
and the song I used to play never called you anyway,
I gave her a name and she marked it down in stone
it did not change it did not even glow
acting in a story that we somehow stole
the rhyme is off
the tempo is cold
and I am freezing when we should be burning slow,
the nights are longer with the steps we take
what there is to do when there is nothing left to say
my heart belongs to me in the most profound of ways,
if this won’t kill us it is not a passage of any kind
for I can not see the future yet I am far from blind…
I am drinking red wine that turned into blood
metallic with a taste to cut out your tongue
it feels like the days I spelled your eyes wrong
and you gave me water that washed our souls,
Miss Wright is out of control
Mister Wong is ever so bold
tell me to stop
ask me be better
nothing left to do before I write this letter
something must change or it’s hog-killing weather
I can not go the same to the end of summer
it is in my bones that I seek an honest meaning
and if you ever try again tell me so I can take cover
love is a curse but it must not be made harder…
Cu degetele înmuiate în sevă pictează noaptea înstelată pe trupu-mi dezgolit,
hrănește-te cu carnea de pe mine
și rupe bulgări din țărână,
stoarce flori de viță peste munții amândoi
să nască iazuri reci când totul e fierbinte;
din palme toarnă stropi de rouă, seara peste ceruri și astăzi peste mine,
paznic pentru buze, gândul de pe urmă,
pune-i pecete de ceară…
Sfârșitul e aproape
coloanele se înclină peste ceruri
umbra ta dispare în soarele ce naște
pașii în nisip sunt gânduri puse-n ghips
ochii se închid –
mătase se revarsă prin jaluzele trase
ape izvorăsc din piatră
orașul se transformă în stihie fără dogmă,
îngenuncheați primim chemare
rădăcini de sare celor spovediți în Mare
degetele rupte
mere de alamă
Edenul este o cursă cu suflete de sticlă
trandafiri din plastic
toamnă de pe pânze,
ceara ta fierbinte curge peste buze
fiecare carte răpește o himeră
cuvintele șuvoi,
ia-le înapoi,
eu doresc lumină –
sfârșitul e aproape
șoaptele sunt coapte
plouă peste trupuri cu baionete roase
din inimi nemișcate macii se înalță
dar orele, orele sunt moarte…
Doubts and dreams and dragons
blurred all things we did together
how come I do not remember
what made me ask you out,
was it cream or was it sugar
in the very first cup of coffee
was it good or was it crappy
on the street or after pancakes,
sympathy or desperation
I still search my inspiration
if there was a single thing
I have found to make me cling
how come I do not remember
was it May or in December,
did we take a trip to Spain
booked a train or airplane
simple things we used to say
and the days we’ll celebrate
what’s your flower did I know
yellow dress or bleu ciel,
is it lost or wasn’t there
what’s the color of your hair,
did I really see your eyes
or drank soda telling lies,
and the songs I used to play
did you like or did you fake,
how come I do not remember
was it sand or was it pebbles
did we swim or did we slander
what it feels to be together,
were I sleeping or awake
something’s off, did it break
and I’m trying to remember
what I loved in late November…
I threw the dice before last night,
in the fortune cookie was a letter asking to be read
and the chariot ran down south,
never got the telegrams she sent so far…
One morning sitting on cold pebbles by the sea
my feet caressed by ferries in the chanting mousse,
I tear down all piece of garment
getting lost into uncharted deepest blue…
Going closer to the bottom is a mirror
looking through is my heart unsettled,
how to love when forgotten where to see the stars
I need a prayer and a lecture from the Psalms!
Alice if there’s really you
there is something that I’d like to ask you to,
tell me what’s your real name –
so by spelling it I’ll find my why…
I write with a drink,
the words that I sip
and pour them down all over your hips…
I forgot your name,
how does one say when you bring water that turns into wine,
I shall call you Alice –
it suits you as one that still lives in a wonder,
how can that be?
As I did not learn your name,
at dusk I shut blinds and locked up the door,
we did not have a dog for we could not choose a name
so each time it asked we’ve fed him blue dust
and then just hoped…
You are a little girl, you wander a lot,
your steps are not measured but my sail wind is,
and your tears paint red
a whole sea has changed,
before going to bed…
I asked the skies for wings to fly
so branches came out of my two eyes
and each time a nest opened my chest I felt I could step on a cloud;
one day they left,
children of mine, to age and build up the same…
I speak days and recite the nights
with leaves that fall under the weight of so many stars,
and as you put your back into the ground
I kiss your skin and hold you into my arms….
And I start to drink
a bottle of the words that I fear
and I’d be soon drinking the sea…
by Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
I have been living in Paris since November 2017. At least if life in a small town north of Paris for almost a year counts in as well. Though it is not my first time in Paris. I have been here before. A few years ago, as an intern.
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 