"Parul tau e mai decolorat de soare,
regina mea de negru si de sare.
Tarmul s-a rupt de mare si te-a urmat
ca o umbra, ca un sarpe dezarmat.
Trec fantome ale verii in declin,
corabiile sufletului meu marin.
Si viata mea se ilumineaza,
sub ochiul tau verde la amiaza,
cenusiu ca pamantul la amurg.
Oho, alerg si salt si curg.
Mai lasa-ma un minut,
Mai lasa-ma o secunda,
Mai alsa-ma o frunza, un fir de nisip.
Mai lasa-ma o briza, o unda.
Mai lasa-ma un anotimp, un an, un timp."
(N.Stanescu, 1964)
joi, 18 septembrie 2008
Sentimental story
"Then we met more often
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like to handless of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their whirl-wind,
and suddenly,
i would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow tothe ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words rotate between us,
back and forth,
and the more i loved you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things."
(N. Stanescu)
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like to handless of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their whirl-wind,
and suddenly,
i would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow tothe ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words rotate between us,
back and forth,
and the more i loved you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things."
(N. Stanescu)
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