An Anthology of Romanian Poetry

Translated into English by

Lidia Vianu and Anne Stewart 2014
Parallel Texts

Edited by
Lidia Vianu
 Press Release Monday 1 December 2014

An Anthology of Romanian Poetry

2014
Parallel Texts

Translated into English by Lidia Vianu and Anne Stewart

Edited by Lidia Vianu

ISBN 978-606-8592-57-2

Contemporary Literature Press is publishing Contemporary Literature Press public o

an anthology of 21st Century Romanian poetry antologie de poezie romneasc a secolului XXI
translated into English. The poets included in it tradus n limba englez. Poeii publicai n ea
were born between the years 1941 and 1983.
Although they were all born in Romania, they
belong to two different worlds. This is a book of
two generations, divided by the fall of the Iron
Curtain. What keeps these poets together is the
awareness that they are all speakers of a small
language: it could be termed as the Romanian
language complex.
Quite a number of Romanian writers
migrated to Paris and the French language in the
course of time. After World War II, English became
an even more desirable linguistic destination. It
makes quite a difference, though, if one writes
directly into a widely spoken language, or one has
ones poetry translated after it has been written in
ones mother tongue. Can poetry really be
translated?
It must be said that the poets included in this
2014 Anthology are much more paraphrasable than
their predecessors. Something has happened to the
art of poetry, a rigorous art, which Paul Valry once
welcomed thus: Une difficult est une lumire. Une
sunt nscui ntre anii 1941 i 1983. Dei ei
locuiesc toi n Romnia, lumile lor difer. Sunt
de fapt, n aceast carte, dou generaii: cei
nscui sub comunism i cei nscui n
postcomunism. Un lucru i leag: contiina c
vorbesc o limb mic, sau, mai bine zis,
complexul limbii romne.
Muli scriitori romni au migrat nspre
limba francez i capitala ei. De la al doilea
rzboi mondial ncoace, a devenit i engleza o
limb de destinaie. Dar, desigur, una este s
scrii direct ntr-o limb de mare circulaie i alta
este s fii tradus n limba aceea dup ce ai scris
poemul n limba ta. Este oare poezia
traductibil?
Poeii antologai de noi n acest an 2014
sunt, din fericire, mai parafrazabili dect
confraii lor din secolele anterioare. Rigoarea
poetic a suferit o mutaie. Paul Valry venera
forma fix n poezie. El scria: Une difficult est
une lumire. Une difficult insurmontable est un
soleil. Poria de lumin a poeilor de astzi
difficult insurmontable est un soleil. The light of
poetry today comes from its relaxed simplicity, and
this simplicity can be translated, indeed.
Inside each poets Cup of Light, as we have
called it, the reader will most certainly find food for
thought. In order to make sure that English readers
will have a chance with these poems, the Romanian
translator has worked with an English-born poet.
The two translators of this selection have done their
best to stick to the text as closely as possible.
It is our long-term aim to continue
translating selections of Romanian poetry into
English. We hope that in this way we can help our
readers find the answer to a simple question which
has been with us and our publications for quite a
while now: what exactly does one mean by poetry
in our times?
este simplitatea, iar simplitatea lor se poate
traduce.
Ce se ascunde n spatele acestei Cup of
Light, ce se afl n cecua de lumin a fiecrui
poet, l lsm pe cititor s descopere i s
cntreasc. Traductoarele acestei antologii
s-au strduit s nu se ndeprteze de text. Ca
ntotdeauna, formula cea mai bun pentru a
ajunge la o variant cu sens pentru cititorul de
limb englez a fost colaborarea dintre un
taductor romn i unul englez.
Ne propunem s continum seria de
antologii de poezie romneasc traduse n
limba englez, n sperana c cititorii notri
sunt la fel de interesai ca i Contemporary
Literature Press s afle rspunsul la o ntrebare
simpl: ce nseamn poezie n ziua de azi?
Lidia Vianu
ISBN 978-606-8592-57-2
Contemporary Literature Press wishes to thank poet Ioana Ieronim
The University of Bucharest
for the selection of the texts.
Lidia Vianu
Anne Stewart
Cristina Ioana Young for the photographs

Cover and overall Layout: Lidia Vianu

Proofreading: Ana-Maria one

Illustrations: Cristina Ioana Young
IT Expertise: Simona Smulescu
Publicity: Violeta Baroan

Cover illustrations: Marc Chagall, Au dessus de la ville; Ren

Magritte, The False Mirror, Love from a Distance.
 Translated into English by
Lidia Vianu and Anne Stewart

Edited by
Lidia Vianu
 1

Contents

Angela Marinescu p. 9
(1941)
Vagrant Poem Poezie maidanez p. 9
Hopeless Speech Discurs dezndjduit p. 10
Medical Memory Amintire de medicinist p. 11
Ioana Ieronim p. 12
(1947)
To Friends Prietenilor p. 12
Ion Mircea p. 15
(1947)
Barcelona Lovers ndrgostiii din Barcelona p. 15
Fingerprint Amprenta p. 16
Adrian Popescu p. 17
(1947)
The Burn Arsura p. 17
Grapes Struguri p. 18
Lidia Vianu p. 19
(1947)
hug. soul. never told you. bench. wait. never. p. 19
open. fist. edge. my cup of light p. 20
 2
Ion Zubacu p. 21
(1948)
The Secret Secretul p. 21
The Living Book Cartea de trit p. 23
Ioana Crciunescu p. 25
(1950)
Delirium Delirul p. 25
God Rolls Over onto His Other Side Dumnezeu se ntoarce pe partea cealalt p. 26
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu p. 27
(1950)
why de ce p. 27
Church on Wheels O biseric mergtoare p. 28
Nichita Danilov p. 30
(1952)
Season Anotimp p. 30
Time Timp p. 32
Mircea Petean p. 34
(1952)
From the cycle Textures (Taoist poems). xxx Din ciclul Urzeli (poeme taoiste). xxx p. 34
From the cycle All Those Years Din ciclul Toi anii aceia p. 35
Eugen Suciu p. 36
(1952)
Temperament Spelling Hazard Rugby- Temperament ortografie hazard rugby la p. 36
tackle the Princess prines
The Art and Precision Co-operative or Cooperativa art i precizie sau despre p. 38
 3

about Being Too Tired to Go on with One oboseala de a continua o anume fericire
Particular Happiness
Andrei Zanca p. 40
(1952)
So Astfel p. 40
Today Azi p. 42
Marian Drghici p. 43
(1953)
Paul Vinicius p. 46
(1953)
she who had turned me into some kind of ea care fcuse din mine un fel de japonie p. 46
japan ruffled by an atomic bomb ciufulit de o bomb atomic
she in crow silk glancing at me ea care m-a privit din mtasea-broatei p. 47
child with yellow moths and milk tooth copilul cu fluturi galbeni i dinte de lapte p. 48
an incident with hands and feet called man ntmplarea cu mini i picioare numit om p. 49
fiftytwo cincizeciidoi p. 50
Gabriel Chifu p. 51
(1954)
In My Sleep (a vision) n somn (o viziune) p. 51
My City Oraul meu p. 53
Denisa Comnescu p. 54
(1954)
Between the Comb and the Mirror ntre pieptene i oglind p. 54
Gazing at the Oak-trees in front of the Girls Privind stejarii din faa cminului de fete p. 56
Dorm
 4
Traian T. Coovei p. 57
(1954-2014)
Life Enough ndeajunsul de via p. 57
The Feast Ospul p. 59
Magda Crneci p. 60
(1955)
If Only De-ar veni p. 60
Postmodernist Manifesto Manifest postmodern p. 62
Ion Murean p. 64
(1955)
A Sense of Sea in a Small Pub Sentimentul mrii ntr-o crcium mic p. 64
On Gods Despre zei p. 66
Marta Petreu p. 68
(1955)
Theses on the Brain Teze despre creier p. 68
No Longer Loving Heart Nemaiiubitoare inima p. 70
Matei Viniec p. 71
(1956)
The Ship Corabia p. 71
We Expected a Resurrection of Flowers Ateptam nvierea florilor p. 73
Carmen Firan p. 74
(1952)
On the Horizon La orizont p. 74
Last Celebration Srbtoarea din urm p. 75
 5
Liviu Georgescu p. 76
(1958)
Annals Will No Longer Protect Us Cronicile nu mai vor s ne apere p. 76
Half Pe jumtate p. 78
Adrian Alui p. 79
Gheorghe
(1958)
Tea Ceremony Ceremonia ceaiului p. 79
Sentence Sentina p. 81
Bogdan Ghiu p. 83
(1958)
ioan es pop p. 85
(1958)
beyond dincolo p. 85
Lucian Vasilescu p. 88
(1958)
Daniel Bnulescu p. 92
(1960)
Cubby 4, Attic, 19 The Fall of the Bastille Strada Cderea Bastiliei 19. Mansard. p. 92
Street Cmrua numrul 4
Princess I said Prines am spus p. 94
Peter Sragher p. 95
(1960)
tombstone piatra funerar p. 95
bullet in love glonul ndrgostit p. 97
 6
Horia Grbea p. 100
(1962)
field cinema cinematograf de campanie p. 100
pretext pretext p. 102
Mihail Glanu p. 103
(1963)
Every Line Is Given to Us in order to Fiecare vers ne este dat ca o amnare a morii p. 103
Postpone Death
My Life Is Treating Me More and More Viaa mea se poart tot mai fr mnui cu p. 104
Brutally mine
Robert erban p. 105
(1970)
Shirt Buttons Nasturii de la cma p. 105
God Talks to No One Dumnezeu nu vorbete cu nimeni p. 106
Dan Mircea Cipariu p. 107
(1972)
the matrix poem. closer and closer to my life poemul matri. din ce n ce mai mult n p. 107
propria mea via
Alexandru Muina p. 110
(1973-2013)
Philosophies Filosofii p. 110
Dudu Dudu p. 111
Pigeons Porumbeii p. 112
Dan Sociu p. 113
(1978)
 7
Domnica Drumea p. 116
(1979)
with or without cu sau fr p. 116
Linda Maria Baros p. 118
(1981)
Q.H.S. (Maximum-security district) Q.H.S. (Cartier de maxim siguran) p. 118
SDF SDF p. 119
Elena Vldreanu p. 120
(1981)
I am not a plastic bag I am not a plastic bag p. 120
fat fat p. 122
Claudiu Komartin p. 124
(1983)
i love that city iubesc acel ora p. 124
On the Wharf La debarcader p. 125

Alphabetical Index of Poets p. 127

Information about the Translators and the Illustrator p. 128

8
 9

Angela Marinescu
(b. 1941)

Poezie maidanez Vagrant Poem

m recunoatei, am un singur vers stng
i un singur vers drept
din care ies viermii care se urc
ondulai i irevocabili pe treangul
ce se balanseaz ca o moned
cognitivist i psihanalizabil a banilor
din reeaua strlucitoare a stngii
i a unei singurti
cu gura nchis ermetic
you recognise me, I have only one left line
and one right
out of which worms climb,
winding and irrevocable, a noose
that hangs like a coin,
cognitivist, psychoanalysable, from the wealth
in the bright network on my left
out of a solitude
whose mouth is hermetically sealed
 10

Discurs dezndjduit Hopeless Speech

s te lai compromis fizic allowing yourself to be physically compromised

de discursul monoton i rigid al legii by the rigid monotony of word of law
s nu te poi ridica pn acolo and not being able to reach that place
unde se rad pe pubis homosexualii where homosexuals shave their pubis
direct cu mna ntoars ca un cuit with their own upside down hand like a knife
mai concret dect more concrete than
Pluton Pluto
Uranus Uranus
Loser Loser
Afrodita Aphrodite
 11

Amintire de medicinist Medical Memory

la autopsiile la care am participat in the autopsies I have witnessed

vulnerabil la frig vulnerable to the cold
cu ferestrele larg deschise n orice anotimp windows open wide in all seasons
de-a lungul anilor all through the years
ca student la medicin of learning medicine
cu formolul rscolit de minile our inept
noastre inepte and precise
i precise hands agitating the formol
ca orice instrument tehnic like a technical instrument
aplicate direct pe mort probing the flaccid flesh
niciun cadavru nu a fost no dead body has been
mai aproape de perfeciune closer to perfection
de revolta livid i cenuie to livid and grey revolt
i de obscenitatea ultim and the ultimate obscenity
aceea care te mai ine n via that keeps you alive beyond
la sfritul vieii the end of life
ca poezia none closer than poetry
 12

Ioana Ieronim
(b. 1947)

Prietenilor To Friends

Mi-e ruine c sunt spaniol pentru c Franco
Mi-e ruine c sunt francez pentru c Algeria,
mi-e ruine c sunt algerian pentru c Frana,
mi-e ruine c sunt american pentru c Bush Iraq
i sngele vrsat cndva ntre frai,
mi-e ruine c sunt rus pentru c Stalin Gulag
i mai nou una-alta,
Mi-e ruine c sunt german pentru c Hitler, sta e clar,
[Pol Pot se vede mai rar n topuri, dar te ngrozeti, i este
o cumplit ruine omeneasc numai cnd i aduci aminte]
I am ashamed that I am Spanish because of Franco
I am ashamed that I am French because of Algeria
I am ashamed that I am Algerian because of France
I am ashamed that I am American because of Bush, Iraq
and the bloodshed once among brothers
I am ashamed that I am Russian because of Stalin, Gulag
and recently of this and that
I am ashamed that I am German because of Hitler, clearly
(Pol Pot appears more and more seldom in the lists, but one
is horrified, humanly ashamed, remembering)

mi-e ruine c sunt englez pentru c fotbalul .a.m.d.
mi-e ruine c sunt polonez asta cnd nu sunt mndru,
mi-e ruine c sunt turc, totui curzii,
mi-e ruine c sunt ceh i m-am lsat clcat,
[tot aa mi-e i mie foarte ruine zic unii care simt
I am ashamed that I am English because of football etc
I am ashamed that I am Polish only when I am not proud
I am ashamed that I am Turkish, but then there are Kurds...
I am ashamed that I am Czech and allowed myself to be
stifled

o ruine extrem i ascund arme prin cmri, pndind
momentul
s-i spele ruinea n sngele dumanului lor
dintotdeauna]
mi-e ruine c sunt ortodox ori catolic i-am mprit n dou
muntele pe care a sngerat Isus: dup care au fcut unii
buci i mai mici din Golgota Sa dedesupt,
mi-e ruine c sunt indian pentru c, ah, ce s mai vorbim,
mi-e ruine c sunt macedonean, dar la greci s le fie i mai
mult
mi-e ruine c sunt coreean de-ai lui Kim Ir Sen
mi-e ruine c sunt coreean de oriunde, ct vreme exist
coreeni de-ai lui Kim Ir Sen,
mi-e ruine c sunt srb, dar s m mai gndesc
mi-e ruine c sunt chinez pentru c: eti chinez, m?
mi-e ruine c sunt romn pentru c Ceauescu Dracula of
course
iar acum, vai, toi romnii tia prin lume...
de neamul meu mi-e ruine i cnd nu mi-e ruine
13
(I am just as ashamed myself some say, who feel
shame in its extremity and hide weapons in pantries,
waiting for that moment
in which they wash away their shame with the blood of
traditional enemies)
I am ashamed that I am Orthodox or Catholic and I wedge
and split
the mountain on which Jesus bled before others made
even smaller
pieces out of his Golgotha below
I am ashamed that I am Indian because... well, its no matter
I am ashamed that being Macedonian I let the Greeks be
even more
I am ashamed that I am Korean and one of Kim Ir Sens
I am ashamed that I am Korean no matter where, as long as
Kim Ir Sens Koreans remain
I am ashamed that I am Serbian, but... let me think
I am ashamed that I am Chinese because: Youre Chinese?
I am ashamed that I am Romanian because of Ceasusescu,
Dracula of course
 14
oricum fiecare a uitat cte ceva and now, God, all these Romanians all over the world...
Everyone: fill in the blanks! I am ashamed of my nation even when I am not ashamed
but each of us seeks to forget something
I am ashamed because .......... [Everyone: fill in the blanks, write
yours here!]

dar tu, dar tu tu, tu but you, but you you, only you
tu, din neamul tu care-a umplut pmntul gol you, whose nation filled the desolate earth with life and
de via i buntate kindness

tu eti acest om, o nou zi ncepe you are the man who begins the new day
azi today
cu primul tu pas with your first step
 15

Ion Mircea
(b. 1947)

ndrgostiii din Barcelona Barcelona Lovers

n centrul catedralei in the centre of the cathedral

piaeta unui orel the square of a little town
n care oficialii vorbesc despre o catedral invizibil. where those in the know tell of an invisible cathedral.
oaspetele cel mai masiv a massive guest
lumina de-afar the outside light
e-atta nentinare n penajul porumbeilor there is such purity in the pigeons feathers
o fin zero se las din cer superfine flour falls from the sky
peste cldiri peste arbori pe umerii oamenilor. on buildings on trees on peoples shoulders.
zuruie ndelung oscioarele n micul cociug al chitarei small bones rattle echoing in the coffin of a small guitar
n timp ce fericirea nu mai ncape n lume. while the world can no longer contain happiness.
sus pe un zid there at the wall
doi ndrgostii mpletii ca un 8. two lovers wind into an 8.
e trziu. la umbra lor late. in their shade
un cal orb a blind horse
plnge cu sudoarea de pe gt. is crying sweat from its neck.
 16

Amprenta Fingerprint

Ea mi-a fost totdeauna mult mai aproape
dect palmele mele, dect amprentele.
amprentele-mi las acest dig, acest plns mpietrit al fiinei
afar, n materie,
pe cnd ea i-a lsat nluntrul meu acest dig,
acest plns mpietrit, ca un omor tinuit,
ea i-a lsat amprentele peste tot n mine nsumi.
ea este-n mine iar eu sunt mprejurul ei, afar,
pereii, grdina,
aura inconfundabil a oraului, coroanele de fotoni
ale caselor. eu sunt mprejurul ei,
afar, una din amprentele ei,
amprenta acestui dig, acestui plns mpietrit n materie.
she has always been much closer
than my palms, my fingerprints.
my prints leave a dam, a stony wail of my being outside in
the matter,
but she leaves this dam inside me,
this stony wail, like a secret killing,
she has left her fingerprints everywhere in me.
she is inside of me and I am outside of her, all around her,
the walls, the garden,
the unmistakable halo of the town, the photon crowns
of houses. I am all around her,
outside, one of her fingerprints,
the fingerprint of this dam, this stony wail in the matter.
 17

Adrian Popescu
(b. 1947)

Arsura The Burn

Carnea mea toat este o lumnare My flesh has become a candle

Dar eu sunt flacr ntr-un cer strveziu, But I am a flame in a transparent sky,
Ca psrile, mort Like dead birds,
Voi cntri mai greu dect viu. I will weigh more than when alive.

Ochiul arznd se hrnete din cear The burning eye feeds on wax
i face un strop de rou fierbinte and makes a few hot beads drip down
Odat am tiut s zbor, odat, Once I learned to fly, once
Dovad n-am, dar mi aduc aminte. I had proof, but I remember having flown.

Trupul meu ntreg este o lumnare My whole body is a candle

Dup ce se va fi scurs toat n rn All will pass into dust in the end
i flacra se va topi n albastru The flame will melt into the blue
Vei mai simi o arsur pe mn. And you will feel the burn on your hand.
 18

Struguri Grapes

Dac nu suntem la fel cu versurile noastre, If we do not inhabit our verses,

la ce bun s mai scriem? what is the use of writing?

Eminescu i Rilke, Byron i Mandeltam Eminescu, Rilke, Byron and Mandelstam

au reuit. succeeded.

Struguri stori n presele timpului. Grapes squeezed in a timepress.

Dac nu-i pot ncarna imaginile If we are not alive in our images
ce le mai rmne poeilor? what remains of poets?

Roua i cernelurile, Dew and ink,

Truda, simetriile ? Labour, symmetries?

Numai culoarea sngelui Blood is the only colour

N-o mai poi terge din carte. That cant be erased from a book.
 19

Lidia Vianu
(b. 1947)

wait never open

wait when all my roads you kicked a door open

you say are closing down in my mind
dont late this day you take me to this before
let it early never your
away town more

soul hug bench

soul is a ball of fire this tired day the icon garden

enclosing memories at the corner of age my first place with you
which do not hugging your words with all these years gone
want floating in that air I am still looking there
to lose the body that mediterranean for a bench to sit on
they hire that balcony over the waves
that
you
 20

fist never told you edge

I warm my hands read joyce when there is no cell

at what we missed just read him when there is no body
feet in today with my eyes when I am on the edge
soul in your fist make sense when all sense dies you rise
read joyce with me just this once a wave
which should have been ago a sea
read what I never told you an ocean
find me before I go embracing me
while I plunge

my cup of light

share
my last cup of light
before we both
grow blank and
white
 21

Ion Zubacu
(1948)

Secretul The Secret

iat secretul cel mai bine pzit al lumii acesteia:
cuvintele noastre predetermin realitatea
ce gndete creierul nostru modeleaz cursul zilei de mine
iar visele pot fi programate, tiai?
mnnci seara o turt de pine srat
ca fetele de pe Valea Izei
n noaptea de Sntandrei sau de Anul Nou
coapt pe jarul cuptorului
cel care i va aduce ap n vis
va fi ursitul nunii tale viitoare
sarea din turt cheam visele i pe cel visat
las-l n morii lumii pe Cioran
cu sinuciderea lui lent ca un rsrit de soare
dragostea lui te-a mbtat cu destul moarte
alege-i cu grij cuvintele cu care vorbeti
schimb-le nnoiete-le roag-te ncepe s te rogi
here is the best guarded secret in this world:
our words predetermine reality
what our brain thinks shapes the way tomorrow goes
and dreams can be programmed, did you know that?
in the evening you eat salty bread
baked on embers in the oven
like girls in the Iza valley
on Saint Andrews night or New Years Eve
he who brings you water in your dream
will be your bridegroom
the salt in the bread calls dreams and the one you dream of
Forget Cioran and all the dead in the world
forget his slow suicide, like a sunrise
you got drunk on his love which was just so much death
choose carefully the words you utter
change them renew them begin to pray
 22
miracolul nu se ntmpl dect cu cei ce cred n miracole miracles only happen to those who believe in miracles.
 23

Cartea de trit The Living Book

Doamne ct am putut rtci pn acum pe mri i oceane
sintactice
voind s salvez cteva cuvinte de pre din naufragiul acestei
lumi
dar a venit dimineaa zilei de azi cu Biblia deschis n mn
i am neles din Matei 4,19 c e mult mai de pre pentru
Domnul
s salvez mcar civa oameni adevrai
din naufragiul cuvintelor lumii
God how Ive roamed syntactical seas and far-off oceans
meaning to save a few precious words from this shipwreck of
the world
but today morning came holding out an open Bible
and from Matthew 4.19 I understood that it is far more
important to God
to save a few honest human beings at least
from the shipwreck of all the words in the world

ntemeietorul Romei sunt eu. I am the founder of Rome.

Descoperitorul Americii sunt eu. I am the discoverer of America.
Inventatorul aeroplanului I am
i al locomotivei cu aburi the inventor of the aeroplane
sunt eu. and of the steam train.

Am descoperit I have discovered

am ntemeiat I have founded
am inventat. I have invented.
 24

Oboseala aceasta de sfrit de lume The end of the world has me exhausted
v rog s mi-o nelegei. please understand.

Nu Stop
mai ridicai ochii spre cer i looking up at the sky and
nu stop
mai cerei. keeping on asking.
 25

Ioana Crciunescu
(1950)

Delirul Delirium

ntemeietorul Romei sunt eu. I am the founder of Rome.

Descoperitorul Americii sunt eu. I am the discoverer of America.
Inventatorul aeroplanului I am
i al locomotivei cu aburi the inventor of the aeroplane
sunt eu. and of the steam train.

Am descoperit I have discovered

am ntemeiat I have founded
am inventat. I have invented.

Oboseala aceasta de sfrit de lume The end of the world has me exhausted
v rog s mi-o nelegei. please understand.

Nu Stop
mai ridicai ochii spre cer i looking up at the sky and
nu stop
mai cerei. keeping on asking.
 26

Dumnezeu se ntoarce pe partea cealalt God Rolls Over onto His Other Side

Orice, orice Anything, anything

numai s vorbii despre mine so long as you talk about me
orice, orice anything, anything

nici-un martor n insula aceasta theres no witness on this island

mereu ngheat dinspre lume un mal this world a shore thats always frozen
pntecul mrii ngropat n zpad i moin the seas womb buried in snow and thaw
pus sunt aici s repar motoare de brci i am here to repair boat engines
fr noim meaninglessly

orice, orice Anything, anything

numai s vorbii despre mine so long as you talk about me
orice, orice anything, anything

Paznicul lumilor The watchman of all worlds

Delireaz tot anul. Raves all year round.
 27

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

(b. 1950)

de ce why

de ce m-am nscut n romnia i nu ntr-o familie de tigri
din grdina zoologic,
de ce aici, unde am ajuns, nimic nu are sens i de ce
lumina de acum s-a nscut din
ntunericul a ceea ce am fost eu 58 de ani, de ce ntorci
capul, dac eu sunt nainte i rspund:
sunt aici i acum fiindc trebuia s fiu aici i acum
why was i born in romania, not in a family of tigers
at the zoo,
why does nothing make sense here, where i have landed, and
why
was this light born out of
the darkness that was my life for 58 years, why are you
turning
your head if i am ahead let me answer all that:
i am here and now because i had to be here and now

O biseric mergtoare
Miresme vtmtoare i diferite forme de rtciri, ba
cnta i cucul cnd a ajuns din urm o
biseric neterminat, pus pe patru roi, plin de gutui, cu
limba scoas.
I s-a prut c are n faa ochilor o adevrat ntrire n
necunoscut a graiei sale, din tineree. Mai ales c era sub o
impresie
profund, atunci, a sfatului unui venerabil ef de trib s
caute o biseric neterminat, mergtoare, i s
se roage n ea: c tcerea, ndelung practicat, nu-i place lui
Dumnezeu, deoarece i te ascunzi Cnd a
ajuns-o din urm, a constatat c, de fapt, biserica asta
neterminat era o simpl cru tras de cai,
care scria ngrozitor. i n care nu te puteai urca, s te rogi,
fiind
plin vrf cu
tot felul de roade stricate, adunate la ntmplare, ale acestor
vremuri.
28
Church on Wheels
Harmful odours and various kinds of wanderings, even
the cuckoo sang when he caught up with an
unfinished church, placed on four wheels, full of quinces,
tongue out.
It seemed to him he was looking on his youthful grace
come back stronger from the unknown. Especially as he was
under the deep
impression of a venerable tribal chiefs advice that he
should
find an unfinished church on wheels and
pray in it: since God hates long
silences, because you hide from him... When he
caught up with it, he realized that this unfinished
church was merely a wagon pulled by horses,
creaking terribly. You could not climb into it to pray, as
it was loaded with
all kinds of the rotten fruit of this age, gathered at random.
 29
Having thus found himself again, he sat down on the wagons
Regsit, s-a aezat pe coada cruei. tongue.
 30

Nichita Danilov
(b. 1952)

Anotimp Season

Aceast tristee sacr a norilor This sacred sadness of the clouds

zugrvit pe fereastr. painted on the window pane.
Acest sfrit de secol This end of a century
mprocat pe perei! splashed all over the walls!
Ca o ap grea se scurge pe strzi seara... The evening flowing down streets like heavy water...

... Cine ne-a deschis n frunte aceste ferestre, ...Who opened these windows in our foreheads,
cine ne-a zidit n piept who built these
aceste scunde ui? secondary doors in our chests?
Prin mine umblu ca printr-un anotimp bolnav. I walk inside me as if in a diseased season.
Glasul mamei l aud prin zidul ntunecat: I hear mothers voice from beyond the dark wall:
De ce ai venit aici, Why are you here,
pentru ce te-ai ntors? why have you come back?
Pleac, iei ct mai ai timp. Go, out with you while there is still time.

Glasul fratelui l aud stins, ca prin ap: I hear my elder brothers voice as if muffled by water:

Iei ct mai repede din aceast lumin
i las-m singur
s respir n umbra mea...
Feele cui se pstreaz aici,
n aceast putred lumin de sear?
O mie de capete retezate
ateapt ce anotimp?
Braele cui vor fi semnate pe cmp,
dinii cui vor rsri din iarb?
Prin mine trec ca printr-un ciudat anotimp.
Cu easta lui Yorick n mini, m ntreb:
Dac am secerat
unde i ce am secerat?
i dac adun, cnd i pe cine adun?
31
Get out of this light as soon as you can
and leave me alone
to breathe in my own shadow...
Whose faces are preserved here,
in this putrid evening light?
What season are a thousand
cut-off heads waiting for?
Whose arms will be sown in the field,
whose teeth will grow in the grass?
I walk across myself as if I were some strange season.
Yoricks skull in my hands, I wonder:
If I have reaped
where and what was it I reaped?
And if I harvest, when, whom am I harvesting?
 32

Timp Time

Iubirea ta exist exist mi spun I tell myself your love is real

pe strzi trec Criti disperai despairing Christs wrapped in
cu trupul nfurat n ziare: newspapers walk down the streets:
facei din ap vin i din snge cuie de lemn pentru orbi turn water into wine and blood into wooden nails for the
Femeile i despletesc prul blind
verde la geam i rujeaz Women let their green
buzele albastre n baie hair down at the window paint
Psrile zboar i zboar their lips blue in bathrooms
dinspre duminic spre luni i napoi Birds keep flying all the time
duc cleti i ciocane n gheare from Sunday to Monday and back
poart n cioc ochelari i peruci they carry tongs and hammers in their claws
Ziua de miercuri e ca un zar aruncat they bring glasses and hair wigs in their beaks
i vineri o mn-n mnui Wednesday is cast like a die
ce mparte cri de joc pentru voi while Friday is a gloved hand
Iubirea ta va veni va veni mi spun which deals you cards
pe ine de tramvai trec Criti disperai I tell myself your love will arrive
cu trupul scldat de reclame: Despairing Christs run down tramway lines
Caut s-i in echilibrul their bodies bathing in advertisements:
unul dup altul se prbuesc n gol They try to keep their balance

Tramvaiul vopsit ntr-un galben strident
culoarea sinucigailor
gonete ntr-un ora pustiu
n care oamenii atrn ca nite tablouri
n cuiele rmase-n perei.
Nu se vd dect mese i scaune
pe care stau animale ciudate
cu patru mini i patru picioare:
din cupe de aur beau vin
de pe platouri de aur
ciugulesc monezi i smochine
Eu nsumi nu sunt dect
un tablou pictat de mine:
atrn pe un perete galben
micat de vnt.
33
and fall into the abyss one by one
The shrill yellow tramway
the colour of suicides
races across a deserted town
where people hang like paintings
from nails forgotten in the walls.
All one can see is tables and chairs
on which strange four-armed and four-legged
animals are seated:
they drink wine out of golden cups
pick coins and figs
from golden platters
I am just my own
painting of myself:
hanging down a yellow wall
in the wind.
 34

Mircea Petean
(b. 1952)

Din ciclul Urzeli (poeme taoiste) From the cycle Textures (Taoist poems)

xxx xxx

egali flueni se cade-a fi we ought to be balanced and fluent

n oricare din zilele de peste an
marele sforar sfrie i se stropete ca un samovar
mahalaua se-ntinde pn sub pduri
toat dup-amiaza am privit muntele nzpezit
am desfcut nodurile am stins luminile apoi una cu rna
ne-am surpat ntr-o lume de dinainte de zei
on every day of the year
the big manipulator fumes and splutters like a samovar
the slums stretch far into the forests
we have watched the mountain covered in snow all afternoon
we untied knots we turned the lights off and then just like dust
we crumbled into a world before all gods
 35

Din ciclul Toi anii aceia From the cycle All Those Years

ieisei n cmp deschis
cnd pe dat lumea se rupse n dou
de o parte ceata celor cu urzici moarte la butonier
i tabra celor cu scaiei n bandulier de cealalt parte
de toi te apropia deprtarea
you had gone out into the field
when all of a sudden the world broke into two
on one side a group of people with dead stinging nettles at
the buttonhole
on the other a group with thistles in their shoulder belts
distance brought us closer to them all
 36

Eugen Suciu
(b. 1952)

Temperament ortografie hazard rugby la Temperament Spelling Hazard Rugby-tackle

prines the Princess

Luna urmeaz soarele The moon follows the sun

ca o traducere francez like the French translation
dintr-un poet rus of a Russian poet

Eu nu fumez nu beau I dont smoke dont drink

nu sunt neruinat Im not shameless
zice dracul the devil says
zice roiul flanet the organ-grinding drake says

nu fumez i beau I dont smoke dont drink

zice oraul the city says
zice pisica cerului the sky cat says
zice basmul negru the dark fairy-tale says

pe grania asta subire along this thin border

 37
viaa i cinismul life and cynicism have been marching
mrluiesc de o vreme shoulder to shoulder
umr la umr for a while
neruinate shamelessly
ca uoteala petiorilor japonezi along the whispers of little Japanese fish
din bigudiurile doamnei within the ladys curlers

(de patru ierni la mine n camer (in my room, for four winters,
lumina the light
scuip cheaguri de snge) has been spitting blood clots)

da zice ngerul da yes, the angel says, yes

dar uite nici poemul sta but, see, this poem
nu se repede does not jump at you
s-i mnnce minile to eat your hands, either
 38

Cooperativa art i precizie The Art and Precision Co-operative

sau despre oboseala de a continua o anume fericire or about Being Too Tired to Go on with One
Particular Happiness

Cunosc un calorifer posac. I know a sullen radiator.

Pe mine nu m mai viziteaz Only poetry and fear
dect poezia i spaima. come visit me these days.

la 30 de ani at thirty
nc m fascineaz marile teme: I am still fascinated by the great themes:
iubire. ur. singurtate. love. hate. solitude.
la 30 de ani at thirty
cineva n lacrimile mele someone hammers
izbete cu ciocanul at my tears
pianjenul din colul camerei the spider in the corner of the room
iar m iubete cu voce tare loves me aloud again

sunt oraul I am the city

locuit de o pisic neagr inhabited by a black cat
pe care nu mai am chef s-o rsf that I no longer feel like spoiling
 39

la 30 de ani at thirty
nc mai scot femeia din mnec I still pull a woman out of my sleeve
fiindc acum tiu ce e viaa mea: because now I know what my life is:
70 la sut ap 70 percent water
i 30 la sut and 30 percent
nevoia de a sufla n urechea Ofeliei the urge to whisper something witty
o vorb de duh in Ophelias ear.
 40

Andrei Zanca
(b. 1952)

Astfel So

pdurile rmn, ndeprtndu-se de noi. forests remain, farther and farther away from us.

doar strzile, casele only streets, houses

ca unghia unei mini trudite, m nsoesc accompany me
like a fingernail on an exhausted hand

oriunde m-a opri, pretutindeni wherever i might stop, everywhere,

durerea mi-a fost busol pain is my compass

pe-acest drum, mereu always, along this way

rmne o neumblare forever unwalked

rentorcndu-ne given back to me

mireasma rozelor din grdina the scent of roses in the garden

de mult luat de ape, o tandree the waters flooded long ago, belated
 41

ntrziat, timpul tenderness, time

asediat de besieged by
timp time

att de uor trece totul. everything goes by so easily.

viaa. att de lesne life. so easily
am fost was i
uitat forgotten
 42

Azi Today

nu mai e lesne s mori its no longer easy to perish

n limba matern, nimic in your mother tongue, nothing
nu poate fi schimbat n memorie remembered can be altered
amintirile sunt definitive memories are final

dinspre o linite a nsingurrii ns yet from the peace of loneliness

doar iertarea there is forgiveness
iertarea i gratitudinea forgiveness and gratitude

mirrored by becoming
rsfrnte ntr-o devenire dinspre care so: I am here still,
se poate spune: sunt aici today, when
nc i azi, cnd its no longer easy
nu mai e uor to perish
s te stingi in your mother
n graiul tongue
matern
 43

Marian Drghici
(b. 1953)

sunt un cal czut n fntn. i am a horse that fell in a well.

ntr-o fntn seac din Balcani. in a dry well in the Balkans.
zile ntregi am bocit la trompet pe chestia asta. i wailed for days with my trumpet because of it.
zile ntregi am urlat de plns la trompeta regimentului for days on end i howled desperately with the regimental
pn noaptea trziu trumpet
pn mi-au albit prul i unghiile until late into the night
zonele erogene au fcut pl-pl deschidei omul acesta until my hair and fingernails were pale and broken
e un dulap cu stafie my erogenous zones flickered open, this man
i nu m-a ascultat nimeni is a closet with a ghost inside
doar cocoul de tabl de pe cas and no one heeded me
cu scritul lui metalic only the sail of weathercock on the roof
att de plat with its flat metallic
de tcut. silent
creak.

*** ***
n ce m privete it seems to me
 44
n-am dect s mor de foame i may as well starve
ntr-o fntn seac din Balcani inside a dry Balkanic well
dac la att m-a dus capul. if that is all i was good at.

n-am dect s m cutremur de plns la trompet i may as well cry bitterly into my trumpet
singur cu cocoul de tabl de pe cas left alone with the sheet-metal weathercock on the roof
noaptea n lumina lunii at night in the moonlight
doar-doar then maybe
va disprea viziunea it will go away, this vision of a bucket
unei glei cobornd n fntn lowered into the well
plin cu ochi omeneti full of human eyes
zbieretele plozilor de lapte pironii de zidul cocovit of the shrieks of babies wriggling on dilapidated walls
pieile jupuiilor de vii atrnnd la uscat pe crengile duzilor. of raw skins hung out to dry on mulberry branches.

sta nu e poem. this is no poem.

e o trap deschis it is an open trap door
prin care intru-n pmnt de ruine de fric through which i squirm with shame with fear
m fac mic-mic i shrink into myself
de specie m dezic. i deny my species.

e o fntn seac din Balcani it is a dry well in the Balkans

 45
am czut n ea ca prostu cu trompeta regimentului i fell into it foolishly with the regiments trumpet
i-acum c armele tac and now, when the guns are silent,
stau i cnt la trompet. i sit and play the trumpet.
nu mai bocesc. i no longer wail
nu mai urlu. i no longer howl.
deasupra cerul cu stele plin cu ochi omeneti above me the starry sky is full of human eyes
o stafie alb pe deal n sus a white ghost up the hill
ht departe pe cas so far away from home
cocoul de tabl scrie i nici nu-i pas the weathercock creaks and doesnt care
att de plat so flatly
de tcut. so silently.
 46

Paul Vinicius
(b. 1953)

ea care fcuse din mine she who had turned me

un fel de japonie into some kind of japan
ciufulit de o bomb atomic ruffled by an atomic bomb

ea era un fel de japonie she was a kind of japan

n miniatur in miniature
i se ascundea sub un fluture galben. and she was hidden behind a yellow moth.
nimeni nu tia de unde vine. nobody knew where she came from.

ea era simpl i srac; she was simple and poor;

nu avea dect frumuseea she had only the beauty
unei biserici of a church
nepictate. left unpainted.
 47

ea care m-a privit she in crow silk

din mtasea-broatei glancing at me

felul n care frigul how cold it is

termin treaba at the receiving end
unei priviri trectoare. of a passing glance.
 48

copilul cu fluturi galbeni child with yellow moths

i dinte de lapte and milk tooth

tu nu mai eti. you are no more.

cui s i spun whom can i tell

de verdele trist about the sad green
al acestei pduri subiri of this thin forest
de vivaldi? of vivaldis?
 49

ntmplarea cu mini i picioare an incident with hands and feet

numit om called man

ce ntmplare mi-am gsit i eu s fiu what an incident i have chosen to be

n loc s fi rmas n banca mea better I had minded my own business
n loc s fi rmas o privelite frumoas better I had remained a lovely image
a tristeii care sunt. of the sadness that is me.
 50

cincizeciidoi fiftytwo

acum vreo zece douzeci treizeci de ani some twenty thirty years ago
luam eu viaa n mini i took my life in my own two hands
i zdronc! and bang!
cu ea de pmnt i flung it to the ground
i uite and look
c nu s-a spart. it didnt break.

acum o port cu mare now im handling it

cu foarte mare grij with utmost care
ca pe o mireas ubred like a fragile bride
i uite and look
c tot curge nisip din ea. at all the sand spilling out of it.

oh oh
mare e puterea ta bless your power
vrabie sparrow
salcmule acacia
crtio. mole.
 51

Gabriel Chifu
(b. 1954)

n somn In My Sleep
(o viziune) (a vision)

cerurile erau czute-n somn skies had fallen in my sleep

apele clipoceau adormite i ele. waters rippled sleepily.
eu m ridicasem de la pmnt, i had taken off,
aa suspendat dormeam i eu, i was sleeping in midair,
visam dreaming
un cmp nemrginit of an endless field

pe care treceau miriade de furnici. of countless scurrying ants.

ele i croiser crare they had made their way
printre firele de iarb colosale, across an expanse of grasses,
o crare de la ierusalim pn n creierul meu. a path from jerusalem into my brain.
fiecare furnic purta n spate each ant carried on its back
cte o frm de zid. a tiny piece of wall.
desfcuser cetatea n pri infinitezimale they had divided the city into infinitesimal specks
i veneau s-o recldeasc n creierul meu. and were bringing them to rebuild it inside my brain.
 52

apoi a sunat ceasul, tornad then the alarm bell, tornado,

i ne-am trezit toi. and all of us woke up.

Oraul meu
acesta e oraul meu, numai al meu.
casele, transparente, nu au ui
iar n fiecare dintre ele m zresc pe mine nsumi.
merg pe strzi i strzile sunt vii,
i schimb configuraia, m conduc
mereu n alt parte.
ajung pe un pod: malul cellalt nu exist,
dincolo de pod nimic nu e.
caut biserica, n-o gsesc
biserica e lichid i curge.
civa cini alearg spre inima sngernd,
nc palpitnd, a unui nger.
nici zi, nici noapte
doar raza fascinant a morii strlucete.
din slvi se prbuete un cuvnt uria,
ne face praf i pulbere
pe mine i oraul meu.
53
My City
this is my city, all mine.
the houses, transparent, have no doors
and i see myself inside them all.
i walk down the streets, the streets are alive,
they change shape, keep taking me
somewhere else.
i come to a bridge: the other bank doesnt exist,
theres nothing beyond the bridge.
im looking for the church, i cant find it
the church is liquid and it flows.
a few dogs are running towards the still-bleeding,
still-beating, heart of an angel.
its neither day nor night
theres only the fascinating ray of death, shining.
a huge word is hurled from the skies,
smashes us to pieces
me and my city.
 54

Denisa Comnescu
(b. 1954)

ntre pieptene i oglind Between the Comb and the Mirror

Poate c ntre pieptene i oglind Between the comb and the mirror
i scuipi melancolia you may be spitting your melancholy
ca pe o jumtate de mr putrezit. out like a rotten half apple.
Pendulul exact al machiajului The precise pendulum of your makeup
arat ora shows the time
cnd minile i umbl pe faa brbatului while your hands touch a mans face
ca peste o hart necunoscut like an unknown map
i orele de conversaie cu vduva timpului it shows the hours of conversation with times widow
(acolo unde nimeni nu are curajul cuvintelor) (when no one dares to speak)
ora cnd nc mai crezi the hour when you still believe
c marea e o vulpe albastr the sea is a blue fox
ce se gudur i-i linge picioarele fawning and licking at your feet
i ora cnd extazul animal the hour when animal ecstasy
te poart prin muzee de cai... takes you to horse museums...
Cltoreti de fiecare dat Each time you travel
o jumtate de staie half a stop
 55
obligatoriu o jumtate de staie always half a stop
pentru jumtatea de mr putrezit. for half a rotten apple.
 56

Privind stejarii din faa cminului de fete Gazing at the Oak-trees in front of the Girls Dorm

n amurgul acesta m ntorc At this sunset I return

nc o dat nspre tine once again to you
mi-a rupe tinereea ca pe o rochie veche Id tear my youth like an old dress
i-a da-o hran petilor and feed it to the fish
dac inima ta ar mai bate if our hearts were still beating
aa cum se-nvrtete pmntul. as steadily as the earth turns.
Puine lucruri au rmas: Little is left:
plria the hat
din care bunica i ncropise biseric grandma kept as if it were her church
chibritul the match
aprins sub nacela prinilor plutitori... struck under the nacelle of my floating parents...
Voi veni Ill come
nainte ca soarele s-i ating before the sun touches
faa your face
i s nu lase nicio urm acolo without leaving a trace
unde au fost ochii ti. where once your eyes were.
 57

Traian T. Coovei
(1954-2014)

ndeajunsul de via Life Enough

Vremea marilor ploi s-a sfrit, cea a martirilor s-a topit pe The era of rain is over, the time of martyrs has melted on
ruguri. stakes.
Timpul zborului rndunicii s-a isprvit: nici lupilor The days when swallows flew are over: it is just as bad for
nu le merge mai bine. the wolves.

Triesc ntr-o lume pe care nu o cunosc. I live in a world I do not know.

Nici mcar capitalele ei terse de pe faa pmntului. I even ignore its capitals, all erased from the face of the earth.

Acesta este un sfrit din care lipsete tocmai sfritul.
Este nceputul unei mari despriri din care lipsete
chiar desprirea cu toate argumentele ei: cum ar fi cderea
frunzelor,
cum ar fi ngroparea mortului, cum ar fi norii
care nu se mai nduplec a ploaie.
This is an endless end.
It is the beginning of a total separation even missing
separation itself, and all its arguments: like leaves falling,
like burial of the dead, like clouds no longer
able to bring rain.

Din aceast secet de cuvinte nu se nate nimic. From this drought of words, nothing is born.
 58
Din aceast secet de cuvinte, deertul urc pn la acoperiuri From this drought of words, the desert climbs to the roof
iar fntnile sunt pline de copiii setei de a fi fost. and wells are full of chidren, of a thirst for having existed.

Plin de nisip este gura mea... nu praf, nici pulbere. My mouth is full of sand... not dust or powder.
Pline de nisip cuvintele care se spulber n vnt! Words are full of sand, they crumble in the wind!

Am ndeajuns vrsta la care alii pot muri pentru mine. I have aged enough. Others may die for me now.
 59

Ospul The Feast

Dup ce fntnile au secat After the wells ran dry

s-a ridicat pmntul rzbuntor peste case.
Mai apoi, flcii cu flcri de cuite la gt:
dansau pe jratec i priveau n cel mai luminos ntuneric.
Btrnul Aerostate nu mai avea cuvinte care s aminteasc
de fntnile din care se nscuser
ca dintr-un izvor subteran: acum ngenuncheau
n faa cuvintelor i amueau
iar pn i cei mai surzi dintre surzi erau n faa
bucatelor nevorbitoare.
n capul mesei mbelugate.
n faa morii nestule de moarte.
the vengeful earth rose up over the houses.
Then came lads with knives of flame about their necks:
they danced on live coals and gazed into the brightness
in the dark.
Old Aerostate had no more words to offer
they had risen from the wells as if
from a subterranean spring: now they knelt
in silence before the words
even the most deaf among the deaf speechless
at the sight of food.
At the head of a plentiful table.
Before death, hungry for death.

Acolo era soarta celor nvini i chiar acolo There was the fate of the defeated and right there with
viitorul luminos al ospului. them the bright promise of the feast.
 60

Magda Crneci
(b. 1955)

De-ar veni If Only

De-ar veni, de-ar veni un pete rou i mic
ochii de aur s-i scoat din oceanul apatic s m ntrebe
spune-mi trei dorine, trei vise i eu s nu pot spune nici unul
If only, if only a small red fish would come
show his golden eyes above the apathetic ocean and
ask me
to make three wishes, to have three dreams I cant come
up with one

De-ar veni, de-ar veni o maree nalt, cald i roie If only, if only the tides would come, burning
s ne ia de pe rm, s ne spele, s ne nfure to wash us off the shore, to take us, wrap us
i ca semine fr memorie s ne ngroape n caldul sn, n and bury us like amnesiac seeds in its warm bosom, its vast
vastul pntec womb

De-ar veni o fa enorm, o fa strlucitoare If it came as an enormous face, a shining face

s ne priveasc n ochi, n oglinda ei orbitoare s ne to look us in the eye, to draw us into its blinding mirror,
absorbim, to make us press our mouths to its vast lips, and into its
gurile de gura ei vast s ni le lipim, n ochiul ei imens i huge blue eye
albastru retreat and rest...

s ne retragem, s ne odihnim
De-ar veni, de-ar veni orice, oricine, ceva, cineva,
o raz de lumin neagr, apocaliptic, o toxin efervescent,
narcotic,
un nou frison, o nou nelinite, un salt instantaneu ntr-o
altfel de lume,
de-ar veni un alt om, un alt creier de-ar veni un gnd
care s ne gndeasc pe toi s ne scape de noi, s ne
aboleasc
cnd vom nceta, univers, suflete, s suferim durerile facerii
i s dormim...s murim...s dormims urcm n
Imaginar
61
If only, if only something, someone, anything, anyone
would come,
a ray of dark apocalyptic light, an effervescent narcotic
toxin,
a new shiver, a new anxiety, a leap into a different world,
if only there could be another man, another wisdom, a
new thought
to think us all to deliver us from ourselves, to abolish us
and we cease, universe, souls, if only we could endure the
birthing pain
to sleep... die... sleep... to rise again into Imagination...

Manifest postmodern
Nu vor fi cecue fine de China aburind ceai de opiu
nici petale de ofran pe un altar indian de piatr btrn
Broate estoase de Galapagos nu vor fi distilate n sup
nici maimue pitice dresate s cnte cnd li se despic fin
cporul
Nu vom alunga norii de ploaie radioactiv nspre Sahara
i nici o uria sfer de foc nu va fi plantat n Groenlanda
Nu ne vor nfige electrozi amari pe limb nc de la coala
primar
nici nu ne vor nmuli pe alese n mici borcnae de sticl
Nu ne vor cabla pe unii cu alii la computerul universal
la miliardele sale de monitoare
Pe care s se vad naterea unei noi religii simultan pe
ntreaga planet
Nu ne vor vrea dect Binele.
Iar noi, omizi tinere n labirinturi aseptice
cutnd disperat o ieire din marele experiment cripto-celest
sub lumina orbitoare a milioane de sori, milioane de bii
62
Postmodernist Manifesto
There will be no fine China cups with steaming opium tea
no saffron petals on an old stone Indian altar
No Galapagos turtles will be distilled into soup
no dwarf monkeys will be trained to sing when their little
heads are gently cracked open
We will not drive radioactive rain clouds over the Sahara
no huge fire ball will be planted in Greenland
No one will stick bitter electrodes into our tongues in
primary school
no one will choose us for multiplication in small glass jars
No one will wire us together and plug us in to the universal
computer
with billions of screens
To show the birth of a new religion simultaneously at all
points around the globe
They will only want whats best for us.
We, young caterpillars in sterile mazes,
frantic to find a way out of the great crypto-celestial
experiment

Tot nu ne vom transforma n translucide fiine
hotrte s se nale, s zboare spre cosmosuri mai clemente.
Ci, ca demni urmai ai gndacului de Colorado
liric, postistoric i predivin
Vom lua cu asalt pereii laboratorului
ndreptndu-ne victorioi, ordonat, spre buctrie.
63
under the blinding light of millions of suns, millions of bytes
Will not transform into translucent creatures
destined to soar, to swim the skies of more merciful cosmos.
Like worthy descendants of the lyrical, posthistorical,
predivine Colorado beetle
We will assail the laboratory walls
and head, in victorious formal order, for the kitchen.

Ion Murean
Sentimentul mrii ntr-o crcium mic
Ea st pe genunchiul lui. La orice micare
scaunul ip sub ei ca un pescru.
Morii ei de via zice el din cnd n cnd,
dar brbatul cu barb ce ade n faa lor nu aude.
(Cotul pe mas, mna ca o scoic la ureche).
Brbosul aude doar un vuiet de valuri i lin, odat cu masa,
se clatin n btaia valurilor.
Acum mna lui se aez grea pe coapsa ei.
Brbosul se apleac i scuip de parc ar fi but nisip.
Mna urc i urc. Acum el i simte cu degetul mare prin rochie
pubisul rotund i tare ca un ou de lemn.
Morii ei de via zice el. i
Eti grea, nevast, treci pe cellalt genunchi!
64
(b. 1955)
A Sense of the Sea in a Small Pub
Shes sitting on his knee. At every move
the chair creaks under them like a seagulls cry.
Hell of a life he says at times,
but the bearded man facing him cant hear.
(Elbow on the table, a seashell behind his ear).
The bearded man only hears the sea, the waves, and he and
the table
rock gently, out at sea.
Now his hand weighs heavy on her thigh.
The bearded man bends and spits as if he had drunk sand.
The hand goes higher up. Through her dress, his forefinger
touches
her round pubis, hard as a wooden egg.
Hell of a life he says. And then
Youre heavy, wife, sit on my other knee!

Ea se ridic iar brbosul o dezbrac cu privirea.
tie bine c asta face, cci o ustur snii. De parc i-ar arde
rochia
cu o lamp cu benzin. Apoi degetele aspre
strng carnea moale dintre coapse. O dat. i gata.
Brbosul privete departe. Privete draperia roie care
mascheaz
intrarea la WC. Cnd draperia se mic, vine un miros greu de
alge.
Draperia flutur ca o zdrean de nor dimineaa n larg.
Morii ei de via zice omul ctre femeia lui.
Aude i brbatul cu barb. Soarele nu a rsrit,
soarele nostru nc nu a rsrit zice brbatul.
65
She stands up while the bearded mans eyes undress her.
She knows it, because her nipples sting. As if he had set fire
to her dress with a gas-lighter. Then harsh fingers
squeeze the soft flesh between the thighs. Just. Once.
The bearded man looks into the distance. Hes staring at the
red curtain hanging
at the entrance to the toilet. When the curtain moves, heavy
scents of seaweed float.
The curtain waves like a thin cloud far out at sea at dawn.
Hell of a life the man tells the woman.
The bearded man hears that. The sun isnt up,
the man says our sun isnt up yet.

Despre zei
Ei duc n mn obiecte stupide.
Ei infuzeaz n aer nepotrivirea: nimic nu potrivete cu
nimic.
Pe-o raz, hai s zic, de zece metri n jurul lor
e un soi de stngcie amruie,
un strat subire de stupiditate.
Cerul, deasupra strzii-i ca ochiul de beiv:
de-un verde splcit, spre auriu,
cu-o guric neagr-n loc de soare,
n mijloc.
Te-atepi din clip-n clip peste garduri
mii de copii s i ridice capul
s te maimureasc-n fel i chip,
i chicotind cu glasuri subirele
s-arunce nspre tine mii de njurturi.
Dar lucrurile, mai ales, sunt umilite: brusc,
par obiecte de muzeu uitate n latrin.
Cnd simi c i se face mil de obiecte,
i-o mil nesfrit i e de tine,
66
On Gods
They carry stupid objects.
They inject contradiction into the air: nothing matches.
For ten metres or thereabouts around them
there is something akin to a bitter awkwardness,
a thin layer of stupidity.
The sky above the streets is like a drunkards eye:
pale golden green,
instead of the sun, a black small hole
in the middle.
At any moment you expect thousands of children
to pop up their heads from behind hedges
and pull faces at you, all kinds,
and swear at you
snickering in shrill voices.
But mostly, theres the humiliation of objects: suddenly
it seems they are museum pieces relegated to the privy.
When you feel pity for objects,
endless pity for yourself,
you can be certain you have seen a god
 67
poi s fii sigur c-ai vzut un zeu and that he saw you too while passing
i c, trecnd, la rndu-i, te-a zrit and forgot you in the same instant.
i, n aceeai clip, te-a uitat.
 68

Marta Petreu
(b. 1955)

Teze despre creier Theses on the Brain

Mereu rmne o zon neprotejat: un dans pe nervul optic There is always an unprotected area: a dance on the optic nerve
o cea cu limba adnc sub zpad a bitch with its tongue buried deep in the snow
protestul retinei la lumina solar the retina objecting to sunlight
aorta ce picur ritmic the aorta dripping rhythmically

Forma rotundul frigidul senzuale sub ploaie Shape circle frigid sensuous in the rain

Ct putem tri nfrii cu teroarea? trupul neted How long can we live at one with this terror? the smooth body
copit grajd al cuvntului hoof stable of the word

Nu uitai privirea provincial aspr Do not forget the look provincially harsh
auzul ncptor al marionetei the welcoming ear of the puppet
aceast piele somolent porii de sticl this sleepy skin the glass pores
Umilitor de singur creierul meu se contempl Humiliatingly alone, my brain gazes at itself
n reliefuri externe in the external shapes it sees
* *
 69

Marile ansambluri se rotesc fr miracole Large enesmbles rotate without miracles

Pregtii firul cu plumb Bring the plumb-line
pentru amintirile mistificate n actul vorbirii for all memories mystified by acts of speech
singurtatea din cri are sinonime decente bookish solitude has decent synonyms

Iat creierul meu obosind n capricii savante Here is my brain growing tired in scholarly whims
creierul meu camuflat ntr-o mnu de box my brain hidden in a boxing glove
creierul meu lunecos pocnind ca o piele de iap my slippery brain bursting like the skin of a mare

Nemaiiubitoare inima
Amuite sunt marile lucrri ale facerii
tcute lucrurile
nimic nu mai vorbete
Un soare alb ca o lun de carton
un soare de doi bani lumineaz peisajul
ntinderea aceasta prbuit n sine
Un lucru de nimic este i inima mea nemaiiubitoare
Pentru bezn pentru ru se deschide ea la cderea morii
70
No Longer Loving Heart
The important acts of creation are mute
quiet objects
nothing speaks any more
A white sun like a cardboard moon
a cheap sun lights the landscape
this space fallen into itself
My no longer loving heart is as useless
Opening to darkness and evil at the fall of death
 71

Matei Viniec
(b. 1956)

Corabia The Ship

Corabia se scufunda ncet noi ziceam
i ce dac se scufund corabia i mai
ziceam orice corabie se scufund
ntr-o zi i ne strngeam minile
ne luam rmas bun
The ship sank down slowly we said
so what if the ship sinks and we also
said any ship can sink
one day and we shook hands
and said goodbye

dar corabia se scufunda att de ncet
nct dup zece zile noi cei care
ne-am dat minile nc ne priveam
ruinai i ziceam nu-i nimic asta-i
o corabie care se scufund mai ncet
dar pn la urm se scufund iat-o
but the ship was sinking so slowly
that after ten days those of us who had
shaken hands were still looking at each other
ashamed and said never mind so what
a ship which sinks more slowly
still sinks in the end

dar corabia se scufunda att de ncet but the ship was sinking so slowly
nct dup un an nc ne era ruine that a year later we were ashamed
nou celor care ne-am dat minile i we who had shaken hands and

n fiecare diminea ieeam unul cte unul
msuram apa hm nu mai e mult se
scufund ncet dar sigur
dar corabia se scufunda att de ncet
nct dup o via de om nc
mai ieeam unul cte unul i priveam
cerul i msuram apa i scrneam din dini
i spuneam asta nu e o corabie
aste e o...
asta e o...
72
every morning we would file out
consider the water level hmm not long now
it sinks its slow but sure
but the ship was sinking so slowly
that after a lifetime we would still
file out one by one and consider
the sky and the water and grind our teeth
and say this is no ship
its a...
its a...

Ateptam nvierea florilor
Ateptam n faa cuvntului floare
cu un buchet de garoafe ofilite n mn
tiam din surs sigur c nvierea florilor
urma s se produc n urmtoarele 24 de ore
n spatele meu ntreaga florrie
mirosea a mort, a putreziciune
a petale clcate n picioare
eram mii de oameni acolo
ateptnd nvierea florilor
tiam din surs sigur c florile
urmau s nvie n urmtoarele 48 de ore
cu morii nu era sigur, ei mai trebuiau s atepte
dar florile de pe mormintele lor
urmau s nvie n urmtoarele 3 zile
73
We Expected a Resurrection of Flowers
I waited in front of the word flower
holding a bunch of withered carnations
I knew for sure the flowers resurrection
was due within the next 24 hours
behind me the whole horizon of flower
smelt like a corpse, rotten,
a mass of petals, foot-trodden
we were there in our thousands
expecting the resurrection of flowers
I knew for a fact that the flowers
were to rise again within the next 48 hours
not so certain for dead men, they had longer to wait
but the flowers there on their graves those
were to be resurrected within the next 3 days
 74

Carmen Firan
(b. 1958)

La orizont On the Horizon

n fiecare zi oceanul aduce la mal altceva
este mncate de corali, alge nnodate n ruinele
vreunei nave blestemate rvnite i abandonate
scoici albe uierndu-i tristeea
i lemne nnegrite de somn
meduze cu pielea umflat de propria otrav
trupul meu tnr nchis ntr-o sticl cu gtul crpat
i trimis demult s-i caute norocul n larg
iar n alte zile oceanul nu mai aduce nimic
vapoarele cu burta plin plutesc atente
pe linia orizontului subiat
ca i cum n mruntaiele apelor s-ar pregti ceva
ca i cum s-ar lsa noaptea
nainte ca ziua s se sfreasc.
Every day the ocean would bring something new to the shore
skulls eaten by corals, seaweed tangled in some
shipwreck of a cursed boat first desired then abandoned
white seashells whistling with sadness
and wood dark with sleep
medusae whose skin swelled with their own poison
my young body enclosed within a bottle with a cracked neck
sent long ago to find its fortune out at sea
while on other days the ocean would bring nothing more
ships with full bellies would sail carefully
at the thin horizon
as if something were happening in the waters entrails
as if night were falling
before day ended.

Srbtoarea din urm
Cu ct tii mai mult cu att
ai nevoie de mai puine cuvinte
cu ct te scufunzi mai adnc
nelesul fuge i mai departe
cerul i crap cortina
i te las s vezi printre norii crnoi
doar ct de inutil e nerbdarea de a te ntoarce acas
unde toate te vor ateapta neschimbate
acelai Adam n haine noi se va lsa sedus din vanitate
Evele cu prul tiat i ambiii umflate
se antreneaz pentru camuflarea oricrui pcat
aceleai legi, vinovai fr vin
ticloi graiai la grmad de ziua prbuirii imperiului
e gol mpratul sunt goi ochii celui care ajunge s vad
75
Last Celebration
The more you know
the fewer words you need
the deeper you sink
the farther away meaning goes
the curtain of sky cracks open
and all you can see in its fleshy clouds
is how futile it is this impatience for home
where nothing you expect has changed
the same Adam in new clothes the same vanity will welcome
seduction
Eves with cropped hair and swollen ambitions
train themselves to hide every sin
the same innocent culprits
forgiven scoundrels piled up in heaps on the day the empire falls
the emperor is naked the eyes of he who gets to see are vacant

Liviu Georgescu
Cronicile nu mai vor s ne apere
Cenua ne poart smbetele frate, ne poart pic,
cronicile nu mai vor s ne apere,
voievozii nu mai ctitoresc, i uite, afar zpezile mor fr
leac.
Nu mai vor s ne in, tat, rnile sparte de vremi,
de copite barbare, de viclnii din lun,
de clevetitorii-n simbrii.
Nu mai vor s ne-adune oasele, ulcioarele ce gem
sparte-n pmnt. Uite cum am ancorat plopii de zare,
copile,
cu bandaje i crpe,
s nu sngereze,
s nu lcrimeze floarea salcmilor n ciuturi, surato.
S-au ascuns copiii-n armuri.
S-au stricat cucuruzii sub voaluri de mireas.
Limbile ceasului nu mai clipesc.
76
(b. 1958)
Annals Will No Longer Protect Us
Ashes hate and envy us, brother,
annals will no longer protect us,
leaders no longer build, and, see, snow dies helplessly outside.
Dust will not bear with us any more, father, burdened as it is with
time,
barbarian hoofs, moon cunning,
paid slanderers.
Those buried broken moaning urns will no longer
keep our bones. Look, child, how I have attached poplars to the
horizon
with bandages and rags,
for fear they should bleed,
for fear the acacia flowers should shed tears in buckets, sister.
Children have hidden behind armour.
Corn has decayed under bridal veils.
The clock hands are still.
 77
i mama ne leag de curcubee cu funii de cnepi, And mother ties them to rainbows with hempen ropes,
s nu ne prpdeasc potopul. Ne leag de nori cu visele for fear the flood should kill us all. With her dreams, she ties us to
ei. the clouds.

Pe jumtate
ngenuncheat n sprtura frescei
pe jumtate afar,
braul sttea rezemat n sulii,
gtul pe secure.
Pieptul alinta venirea sgeii
i aerul murmura rugciunea.
Rugul se ruga de stele s primeasc
trupul nfurat n flcri.
Frica se-ascunsese n meiul mucegit.
Sufletul trecea rul cntnd.
78
Half
Kneeling in the crack of the fresco
half out,
arm resting on a spear,
neck on an axe-blade.
The breast stroked the coming arrow
and the air whispered a prayer.
The stake begged the stars to accept
the body wrapped in flame.
Fear hid itself in the rotting millet.
His soul forded the river, singing.

Adrian Alui Gheorghe
Ceremonia ceaiului
n timp ce n dreptul ferestrei norul se nnegrea
Ca o scfrlie de nger ngropat n albastrul venic,
Tu puneai apa la fiert ca s-mi pregteti ceaiul.
Apa scotea mici ipete, aa mi imaginam facerea cerului:
din aburul adunat
de la attea piei asudate de privighetori
care cntau o missa solemnis la nesfrit, silnic
sau care ngnau pur i simplu neputina de a
fi pentru o noapte om.
Nimnui nu-i este indiferent clipa ce trece,
Nici clipei nsi care se vede
Pe sine trecnd. Apa fierbea. Norul se nnegrea i mai tare.
79
(b. 1958)
Tea Ceremony
While the cloud darkened at the window
Like an angels skull buried in eternal blue,
You were boiling water for my tea.
The water let out small cries, and I imagined how heaven was
made:
out of the steam coming
from so many sweaty nightingale skins
as they sang unwillingly an endless missa solemnis
or simply hummed their impossibility of
being human for one night.
No one is indifferent to the passage of time,
Not even time which sees itself
In passing. The water boiled. The clouds darkness deepened.

Oamenii n-au bucurii multe. Trec livizi unul pe lng altul
Mcinai de adevruri finale. Ceaiul curgea prin mine
prelingndu-se
Direct n cer. Iubirea? C trebuia s fie i iubirea se
prefcuse
ntr-un spiridu care i rodea tacticos unghiile.
Norul din dreptul ferestrei explodase
Ca un sn cu lapte negru.
80
Humans have few joys. They pass one another unseen
Consumed by final truths. The tea ran through me straight
Into the sky. Love? It had to be there it had turned into
An elf who was slowly biting his nails.
The cloud at the window had exploded
Like a breast with black milk.

Sentina
Nimic mai trist ca o duminic n care toi
prietenii au plecat din ora
strzile au devenit strine i lungi
crile au nostalgii primare i scutur
literele ca pe nite cenui inutile
sunt gata s scoat muguri verzi
dac a avea biciclet m-a apuca
s-o repar, aa, s-mi par
c mi-a mai rmas un drum de fcut
sau s formez numere de telefon
la ntmplare s aud voci morocnoase
ai greit
i eu s nu tiu ce
s fie acesta prilej de reflecie
pentru toat seara
81
Sentence
Nothing sadder than a Sunday when all
friends have left town
the streets are long and strange
the books have primeval yearnings and shake their
letters like useless ashes
ready to blossom with green leaves
if I had a bicycle I would
mend it, just like that, to feel
I have to go somewhere
or I would dial a number
at random just to hear grumpy voices say
wrong number
and I wouldnt know why
I would ponder
all evening
 82
i pentru toat noaptea all night

i mine chiar s cred c se va da sentina and believe that the sentence would be pronounced tomorrow
sec flatly
fr s o aflu vreodat and I would never know it
 83

Bogdan Ghiu
(b. 1958)

Reclam la om, reclam la oameni

pe postul numrul unu Advertising man, advertising people
i pe al doilea. on station one
Au fost nobili cndva and two.
de pre They were precious and noble
sau voiau once
azi fac reclam la lucruri. and they wanted
Ce frumoi sunt now they just advertise things.
hai s lum i noi unul. How beautiful they are
let us buy one.
*
*
Sfritul st frumos The end is sitting on its
n fund backside
i ne-ateapt. waiting.
Venim din toate direciile. From all sides we come.
Cine ajunge nainte Who gets there first
 84
este sfritul becomes the end
se-ntoarce n fine at the last he turns back
cu faa napoi, and looks,
se linitete calms down
i nu ne mai privete cu team. and no longer watches us fearfully.
i totui noi And yet we
ameninm n continuare go on threatening
sfritul. the end.

ioan es pop
(b. 1958)
dincolo
sunt aproape douzeci de ani de cnd dincolo a disprut.
cu doar puin nainte i nc-n timpul vieii mele, dincolo
era singurul lucru care exista cu adevrat, singurul pentru
care merita s trieti. dincolo ne inea loc de mncare i de
butur, de cldur i de adpost, se zvoneau despre el
lucruri grozave, lucra pe dinuntrul nostru cu putere i
fcea posibil ziua care urma s vin, dei aceasta era tot
cea de ieri, tot cea de mine.
viena, budapesta, belgrad toate veneau de dincolo i
dincolo se ntmplau toate. cnd nimic nu mai prea
posibil, dincolo era singurul posibil, dei nu-l ntlniserm
vreodat. iubirea locuia dincolo. norocul locuia dincolo.
sperana locuia dincolo. dumnezeu locuia dincolo.
apoi s-a fcut brusc dincolo i am aflat astfel c nu la acel
dincolo visaserm cnd am ajuns dincolo. zece ani mai
trziu, cnd despre dincolo nici nu se mai vorbea, am
85
beyond
it has been almost twenty years since he went beyond. a little
before and then during my time, beyond was the only place
real, the only place worth living for. beyond was food and
drink to us, heat, shelter, incredible things were said about it,
it worked within us, it was strong, it made tomorrow
possible, though tomorrow was the same as yesterday, and
the same tomorrow.
vienna, budapest, belgrade... everything came from beyond
and beyond was where everything happened. when nothing
was possible any more, beyond was possible, though no one
had ever actually seen it. love lived beyond. luck, too. hope
did. and god himself.
then suddenly beyond was here, and, once there, we found it
was not what we had been dreaming of. ten years later, when

neles c de fapt cu ct ajungeam mai dincolo, cu atta
dincolo se-ndeprta, nu mai locuia nici la viena, nici la
budapesta sau belgrad, nici mcar la londra sau paris.
acum tiu c, dac l vom mai dori din rsputeri, va trebui
s mergem dincolo de dincolo, att de dincolo, nct acolo
s nu mai rmn nici urm de dincoace. vom putea ajunge
cu trenul? nicidecum. cu vaporul? nu, oricte mri am
strbate. cu avionul? nici mcar dac-am cltori o mie de
ani fr escal. n mod sigur ns dincolo se afl pe undeva
pe-aproape, foarte pe-aproape. dar nu pe direcia noastr
de mers.
86
no more was said about beyond, we understood at last that
the further we advanced into it, the farther away it was, it
was no longer in vienna, budapest or belgrade, not even in
london or paris.
now i know, if we keep on longing and longing for it, we will
have to go beyond beyond, so far beyond that our here
would no longer have existed. would we go by train? not
possible. by steamer? no, not by all the seas in the world. by
plane? not even if we travelled a thousand years without a
port of call. undoubtedly, though, beyond is close by, very
close by. it just isnt in our direction.

nu tiu ce l-a apucat pe tatl meu s-njuge boii la car
la doipe noaptea, s m trezeasc i s-mi spun hai.
eu dup ce mor dorm somnuri lungi. unde, am zis,
a zis: la omcuta mare. ce putea s-l mne pe el
n miez de noapte tocmai la omcuta mare,
la atta drum de satul nostru? i de ce s nu ia
autobuzul, dimineaa la ase, de ce s umblm
patru ceasuri ncolo, patru ceasuri ncoace
cu mersul moale i greoi al boilor notri?
dac-i pe-aa, n-o s m mai prindei acas de-acum prea devreme,
n-o s m trezesc n miez de noapte pentru o nebunie ca asta.
i-atunci se apropie ea i zice: scoal
dragul mamei, tatl tu
tocmai pleac s te-aduc de la omcuta,
du-te s-l ajui s te ridice,
de trei zile zaci acolo fr suflare.
i abia de-au ajuns s ne dea de tire ast sear,
dragul nostru.
87
ive no idea why father put the oxen to the cart
at midnight, woke me up and said come on.
when i die i sleep. where, i asked,
and he said: to big shomcutza. what did he want
at midnight all the way to big shomcutza,
so far away from our village? why not take
the six oclock bus in the morning, why should we go
four hours to and four hours back
at the slow heavy pace of our oxen?
if it comes to that, you wont see me home any time soon,
i just wont wake up in the dead of night, its crazy.
and then she comes and says: wake up
my dearest, your father
is on his way to bring you from shomcutza,
go help him lift you up,
you have been lying there dead for three days.
they only let us know last night,
dear one.
 88

Lucian Vasilescu
(b. 1958)

ca printr-un ochean, prin fundul paharului lumea-mi apare as if through a spyglass, through the bottom of this tumbler,
mai aproape, mai mare. the world is closer, larger.
mi port nemurirea la cingtoare. i wear eternity as my girdle.
n rani bastonul de mareal. papuci i pijama albastr in my knapsack my marshals cane. slippers and blue
aa cum pyjamas
am fugit din balamuc, how i fled the madhouse,
pe fereastr. by the window.
acum, de pe puntea cea mai nalt scrutez deprtrile. now, on the highest deck, i peer at the horizon. i scurry
cutreier tirelessly through psychoses, depression, nerves, the seas. my
neobosit psihozele, depresiile, nevrozele, mrile. pe trup body is
port rni scarred from the fight
adnci rmase din lupta with perfusions, with electric shocks, childhood, illusions.
cu perfuziile, cu electroocurile, copilria, iluziile. the crew rebelled one day and left me. im all alone
echipajul s-a rsculat ntr-o zi i m-a prsit. sunt singur on the endless ocean.
pe oceanul fr de sfrit. my hope is to end by discovering the promised word. part of
am credina c voi descoperi odat i-odat cuvntul me. flesh
promis. trup of my flesh.
 89
din trupul meu, carne din carnea mea. tiu c-l voi gsi: i know i will:
voi ngenunchea, i deasupra cerul, mprejururi ap, voi i will kneel down, the sky above and water all around, and i
spa will dig
ntr-nsul, cu minile, groap. apoi m-oi aede i voi atepta a hole with my hands. i will lie down in it and wait
pn-o s se-ndure domnul s m ia. till god is willing to have me.

ca printr-un ochean, prin fundul paharului lumea-mi apare as if through a spyglass, through the bottom of this tumbler,
mai the world
aproape, mai mare. is closer, larger.
mi port nemurirea la cingtoare. i wear eternity as my girdle.
n rani bastonul de mareal. in my knapsack my marshals cane.

sunt cel mai bun poet din acest spital. i am the best poet in this hospital.

tot ce am neles este c fr mine lumea ar fi perfect. c
disperarea ar
disprea. c soarele n-ar mai apune nicicnd pe calea ta. c
ngerii ar
cobor pe pmnt i-ar cnta. din alute
aurii, strlucitoare, mute. c cerul s-ar umple cu flori, c
stelele
s-ar legna n copaci, c cerul s-ar scurge-n cascade, n
mare.
iar pe dnsul vor lsa dre corbii. cu pnze,
ncrcate cu mirodenii. c orice vis s-ar putea mplini. orice
vedenii.
tot ce tiu este c fr mine lumea ar fi mai bun. c soarele
n-ar mai
apune, c n-ar mai fi lun. doar dumnezeu ar umbla din
cas n cas,
ntrebnd ce s-a ales de lumea lui, pe care-o crezuse
frumoas.
90
all i know is that the world would be perfect without me.
despair
would be gone. the sun would never set for you. that angels
would
come down to earth and sing. their lutes
golden, bright, soundless. the air would drown in flowers, the
stars
hang from the trees, the sky would tumble in cascades, into the
sea.
ships would furrow it. sailing ships
loaded with spices. any dream could come true. any delusion.
all i know is the world would be better without me. the sun
would
never set, there would never be moonlight. god would go from
house
to house, alone, asking what became of his splendid world.
 91

i chiar fusese aa, pn la mine. pn cnd m-am nscut i splendid it had been, till i came along. when i was born, the
viitorul future
s-a prefcut n vechime. i mine n ieri. pe unde nu mai e became the past. tomorrow turned into yesterday, in a deserted
nimeni, i place
nicieri. tot ce am neles este c fr mine lumea ar fi that is nowhere. all i know is that the world would be wondrous
minunat. without me. like a prayer recited from the end
ca o rugciune rostit de la sfrit la-nceput. rsturnat. to the beginning. backwards.

ntr-o limb inexistent, melodioas. ntr-o limb din care in a melodious language never invented. a language from which
nimeni n-ar mai ajunge acas. we could never come home.
 92

Daniel Bnulescu
(b. 1960)

Strada Cderea Bastiliei 19. Mansard. Cmrua Cubby 4, Attic, 19 The Fall of the Bastille Street
numrul 4

Tu nu eti nici proast nici surd You are neither deaf nor daft
Dar nici de cine tie ce calitate Though maybe not the full twelve pence
Tu te urci nclat i ud You step on my identity card
Pe buletinul meu de identitate When your shoes are soaking wet

i tinzi s-mi deteriorezi documentul And you almost ruin my ID document

mprtiind cte-o pictur de ap de sn With water dripping from your breast
Pe poza mea data de natere Dropped on my photo, my date of birth
Pe fila cu naionalitatea mea de romn Right where Romanian is evidenced

Tu n-ai nici mam nici tat You have no mother no father

Dect czut lng pat un foarte lung jurnal tntlu Just a very long silly diary fallen by your bed
Caracterul meu mizerabil My miserable nature
i trage vigoarea de la subioara piciorului tu Feeds on the armpit of your leg
 93
Tu n-ai alt noim You have no purpose
Dect uneori seara cnd m-atepi pe scri mbrcat Except on those evenings when you wait on the stairs dressed
Doar n ap In water and nothing else
De la dou cni pe jumtate umplute cu ap Just water, two and a half cups
 94

Prines am spus Princess I said

Femeia din pat prea limba de cine pofticioas a The woman in bed resembled a mans greedy dog-like
brbatului i-am spus tongue I told you
Dup ce am ajuns acas When I got back home
i am pregtit mpreun senzualii cartofi prjii And together we made sensuous fried potatoes

Iar noaptea punndu-mi eu urechea pe pntecul tu And at night, my ear pressed to your womb,
Am auzit cum mncarea ndrgostit I heard food in love
Lovete ncet ncet cu picioruele Kick gently gently with its little feet

Prines am spus Princess I said

i nlnd glasul am plns cu amar And I cried loudly, bitterly
 95

Peter Sragher
(b. 1960)

piatra funerar tombstone

n-a putut he has never been

niciodat able
s-i acopere de moarte to shield his body from
trupul death

piatra funerar rmne the tombstone

mpuinat de suflet deprived of soul
mereu deschis is open always
cu destinul nemplinit fate unfulfilled

piatra funerar este the tombstone is

fr s-i fi has not found its
gsit locul place

piatra funerar the tombstone

alb white
 96
grea heavy
plutete floats
deasupra trupului su above his lifeless
fr via body
plutete floats
deasupra pmntului above earth
uor i gol light and empty

i astzi and today

ani de zile dup years later
moartea lui his death
ochii si tot mai privesc his eyes still see
norii clouds
ca i cnd as if
ntre trupul su between his body
i timp and time
n-ar fi nimic there were nothing
 97

glonul ndrgostit bullet in love

lui adrian costea to adrian costea

puca e casa mea the gun is my welcoming

primitoare home
din eava prin care fug from the barrel which I leave
ca uns n fiecare diminea swiftly every morning
iubesc chipurile I love the innocent
nevinovate faces
nu tiu de ce oamenii I have no idea why people
se tem de mine pentru c fear me since
sunt singurul care I am the only one who
tiu s le iubesc can love their
trupurile bodies
pn la moarte to death

cnd aps pe when I press

trgaci the trigger
totul e numai o pustiitoare everything is devastating
dragoste love
 98
de oameni of people
s le simt parfumul fierbinte I feel their warm perfume
s le ating pielea catifelat I touch their velvet skin
s le iscodesc I find their
gndul thoughts
eu me
glonul the bullet
mereu rece always cold
rigid rigid
urt mirositor foul smelling
hulit de-o lume ntreag hated by everyone
cred c aps pe I think I press
trgaci de the trigger
team in fear
pac bang
m-am aruncat prin eav Ive plunged down the barrel
ca o clip I burn
ard like a brief moment
bummm baaang
sunt una cu omul I am at one with the man
moartea noastr our death
 99
e poate may be
sacrificiul suprem the supreme sacrifice

Ren Magritte: The Raw Nerve

 100

Horia Grbea
(b. 1960)

cinematograf de campanie field cinema

mai rmnea distana only distance was left

tot ca un fel de iubire like some kind of love
pai mici pe coridoarele primverii small footsteps down spring corridors

n-am vzut niciodat Ive never seen

cum nflorete arborele de cafea the coffee tree bloom
regrete bizare odd regrets
pun filmul trecerii tale I play the film of your passage
printr-o staie de metrou through a subway station
telefoanele verzi green phones
clieu citadin cityscape
i totui frisonul and yet the quiver
cu care ard pozele inutile of useless photos burning

mai rmnea distana only distance was left

un film de dragoste a love film
 101
ntr-un cinematograf de campanie in a field cinema
 102

pretext pretext

s fie o iarn scurt a short winter, lets say

s se rostogoleasc lumina light rolling
pn la marginea prfuit a gheii to the dusty edge of ice

ce ar putea s ne spun what could the billiard player

despre o astfel de zi juctorul de biliard tell us about such a day
ar fi destul de crud cu amintirile lui could he be cruel enough to his memories
pentru a o descrie ntocmai? to describe it in detail?

boschete egale n tot parcul all over the park identical thickets
multiplicat aceeai statuie replicate the same statue

va avea juctorul de biliard will the billiard player

curajul s ne povesteasc toate acestea? dare tell us about all this?

poemul s-ar putea ncheia chiar aici the poem could end now
lng hangarul cu brci near the boat shed
ca i cum urmele vechi din zpad as if old footsteps in the snow
s-ar pierde deodat suddenly vanished

Mihail Glanu
Fiecare vers ne este dat ca o amnare a morii
Fiecare vers ne este dat ca o amnare a morii
Ca o mic recompens sucit pentru faptul c vom muri
Adic vom plti toate acestea
Toate aceste versuri extravagante
Vom plti fiecare vers minunat din viaa noastr
Dup cum vom plti pentru fiecare femeie pe care am avut-o
Pentru fiecare unghie a ei ct o moned
Care ni s-a ncletat n carne
i chiar unghia va fi moneda
dac unghiile ei sidefii pot rscumpra viaa
uneori mi nchipui fiecare aluni mai nsemnat
a corpului ei ca pe un ban cafeniu
ca pe un mic bnu cafeniu
cu care pltete toate pcatele mele.
103
(b. 1963)
Every Line Is Given to Us in order to Postpone Death
Every line is given to us in order to postpone death
In small wry recompense for the fact that we shall die
And pay for all this
For all these extravagant lines
We shall pay for every wonderful line in our lives
As we shall pay for each woman weve had
For each of her nails growing in our flesh
Well pay one coin
the nail iteslf will be that coin
in case her pearl nails can ransom life
I sometimes imagine the more prominent moles
on her body each as a brown coin
a little brown coin
which she uses to pay for all my sins.
 104

Viaa mea se poart tot mai fr mnui cu mine My Life is Treating Me More and More Brutally

Viaa mea se poart tot mai fr mnui cu mine, My life is treating me more and more brutally
m-a bgat ntr-o dubi n care it has pushed me into a small van which
mi tot car pumni n botul nsngerat. keeps punching my bloodied nose.
M confrunt cu fotografii mai vechi It compares me to older photos
i mi zice: and says:
deci aa vrei s ajungi, idiotule, so this is where you want to get to, you idiot,
vrei s regresezi spre natere. Vrei s intri din nou n uteru you want to go back to your birth. You want back in your
m-tii mothers uterus
i s te nati din nou. so you can be born again.
Cine tie ce fiar o s ias, Who knows what animal will come out,
Ce pocitanie. Vrei s fii iari copil, What ugly creature. You want to be a child again,
Bai cmpii cu vedeniile tale. Youre crazy, youre seeing things.
Bun, i dup asta? Fine, and then what?
Crezi c aa te vei salva? Do you think it will save you?
Crezi c o s-i reueasc figura asta mereu? Do you think it will work every time?
 105

Robert erban
(b. 1970)

Nasturii de la cma Shirt Buttons

poi s-mi smulgi cu uurin you can easily pluck

inima my heart
dar nainte va trebui but you will have to
s-mi desfaci unbutton my shirt
nasturii de la cma first
 106

Dumnezeu nu vorbete cu nimeni God Talks to No One

de ceva vreme for a while now

aud despre mine aceleai poveti I hear the same stories about myself
mai toate urte mai toate triste all sad and ugly
i m bucur and I am glad
asta nseamn c tot ce am fcut n ultimul timp it means that everything Ive done lately
e is
poate maybe
bun i frumos good and beautiful
adic plictisitor meaning boring
i cine-ar pierde vremea cu lucruri de-astea and whod waste time on this

nu-mi fac snge ru I wont worry

fiindc aud c Dumnezeu nu vorbete cu nimeni since they say God talks to no one
despre nici unul dintre noi about any of us
 107

Dan Mircea Cipariu

(b. 1972)

poemul matri. din ce n ce mai mult n the matrix poem. closer and closer to my life
propria mea via

viaa ntre codul de bare life among barcode

cartela sim sim card
telecomanda cu veti apocaliptice i pornografii remote control with apocalyptic news and unbearable
insuportabile pornography

viaa ntre mai multe echipe de filmare life among several film crews
ntre mai multe clipuri despre viitorul care sun ntotdeauna among several commercials about the future which always
bine sounds good

viaa ntre calupuri de publicitate i sondaje despre cum pot life among advertisements and polls on how europeans can
obine europenii reach
orgasmul cosmic i o moned unic tot mai profitabil cosmic orgasm and ever more profitable common currency

triesc din ce n ce mai mult n propria mea via I live my own life more and more
 108
ntr-o ar interioar inside an interior realm
n care ateptarea i singurtatea mi dau binee where I am greeted by waiting and loneliness

sper s ajung i eu pe Himalaya i s scriu: I hope to reach the Himalayas too and write
viaa n-are rost cu Coca-Cola! life is no use with Coca-Cola!

poemul matri. final fericit the matrix poem. happy ending

poezia a ajuns la sfritul ei! poetry has come to an end!

filosofia a ajuns la sfritul ei! philosophy has come to an end!

istoria a ajuns la sfritul ei! history has come to an end!

un zeu absent an absent god

mi biciuie trezirea i spaimele ei is whipping me awake amidst anxieties

arunc cuvintele i biologiile lor n aer I blast away their words and biology
arunc telecomanda cu gndiri i impulsuri primare I blast away the remote control using primeval thoughts and
impulses
 109
singurtatea pune n micare solitude animates
turbulene turbulence
i tiri! and news!

singurtatea ateapt ntotdeauna un final fericit! solitude is always looking forward to a happy ending!
 110

Alexandru Muina
(1973-2013)

Filosofii Philosophies

Acesta e micul nostru secret. Toat lumea l tie dar
numai noi credem n el: manechinele au fost cndva oameni.
Nu chiar ca noi, ci din plastic i cauciuc. Se plimbau pe strad,
se duceau la coafor, salutau vecinii, i duceau nepoii la
grdini, aplaudau pe la mitinguri ca omul! Pn cnd
Dactr Nicu le-a spus: Ce v tot pierdei vremea?! Nu vedei
c oamenii-oameni v exploateaz? De ce s nu stai linitii,
fiecare n colul lui de magazin, i s v uitai n zare? Voi
avei trupuri de filosof, contemplaia-i vocaia voastr. Unii
oameni v maimuresc. Degeaba, c nu le iese, v-o spun eu,
dactr Nicu.
Cele mai frumoase femei, cei mai frumoi brbai i
copii. Cu toii privesc fix, la ceva ce noi nu vom vedea
niciodat.
This is our little secret. Everyone knows it but we are the
only ones who believe it: mannequins were people once. Not
exactly like us, just made of plastic and rubber. They walked
down the streets, went to the hairdressers, greeted neighbours,
took grandchildern to the Kindergarten, applauded at
meetings... the usual! Till Doktor Nicu said: Why are you
wasting time?! Cant you see the human creatures are exploiting
you? Why dont you just sit and read the paper in your chair, in
the shop? You have philosophical bodies, your calling is
contemplation. Some humans mimic you. Its all in vain, they can
never... trust me, trust Doktor Nicu.
The most beautiful women, the best looking men and
children. They all stare at something well never see.

Dudu
Dudu s-a nscut n tomberonul de lng blocul P4,
ntr-o pung de plastic. Doarme n tomberon, mnnc n
tomberon, se-mbrac din tomberon i aa mai departe.
E omul cel mai fericit, mereu cu zmbetul pe fa.
Salut pe toat lumea, d tot timpul din capul lui mare i zice
Sa-sa-lut! Ce-ce ma-mai fa-fa-fa-cei? Bine, i rspundem
noi, dar tu? Ce-ce-ce s fa-fac sc sc scriu po-poe-zii.
Nimeni nu i le-a citit, ar fi i greu, ar trebui s intri, dup el,
n tomberon i s scotoceti printre borcane goale, oase de
pete, coji de banan, pamperi i o.b.-uri. Dudu-i ine
caietele chiar pe fundul tomberonului, nimeni nu poate s
ajung la ele.
Dar Dudu e mulumit. Dac stai s-l asculi, i
povestete cum o s ia el premiul Nobel, cum o s i se joace
piesele la New-York i cum o s ajung el la Hollywood,
scenarist.
Dureaz, ce-i drept, o jumtate de zi, dar dup aia
viaa-i pare mult mai frumoas. Dudu-i mai tare ca orice
psihanalist. i nici nu te cost nimic.
111
Dudu
Dudu was born near the dustbin of the P4 block of
flats, in a plastic bag. He sleeps in the dustbin, eats in the
dustbin, gets dressed and so on in the dustbin.
He is the happiest man alive, always smiles. He greets
everyone, keeps nodding his large head and says H-hi! H-
how are y-you? We reply, Fine, and you? M-me t-too, Im
wr-writing p-poems. No one has read them, and how could
they, get into the dustbin with him, I mean, fumble among
empty jars, fish bones, banana skins, pampers and tampons.
Dudus copybooks are at the bottom of the dustbin, no one
can reach them.
But Dudu is happy. If you stop to listen, he can tell
you he will be awarded the Nobel Prize, his plays will be
staged in New York and he will become a Hollywood script
writer.
It takes half a day, true, but after that life seems so
much brighter. Dudu is better than any psychoanalyst. And
it will cost you nothing.
 112

Porumbeii Pigeons

Vin i ciugulesc aproape de mine They come and peck by my side

la artezian at the fountain
derbedeii copilriei those childhood tramps
negri i cenuii ochii lor their eyes are dark and grey
snt inte portocalii nfipte n cap with orange targets in their heads
au gturile metalizate their necks are green and purple
verde i mov in metallic shades
Unul dintre ei un mascul One of them, a male
este pentru moment respins rejected for the moment
a tot gngurit has gurgled
s-a dat la ea flirted with her
nu-i pas she cant be bothered
daca a fi el i if I were in his place and
m-ar vedea altcineva someone saw me
a fi fericit Id be happy
 113

Dan Sociu
(b. 1978)

* *
ntr-o galaxie ndeprtat, cu milioane de ani n urm, in a distant galaxy, millions of years ago,
au fost zile de var cnd, spre sfritul lor, la ntoarcerea acas, on summer days when, at dusk, we returned home,
am fi putut s rmnem o familie tnr, cu sare de mare n we could have stayed a young family, with sea salt on our skin,
piele, our future secure and the atoms nuclei in thier rightful species.
viitorul intact i nucleele atomilor n specia lor iniial. a short rainfall would have melted above the flames,
o ploaie scurt s-ar fi topit deasupra flcrilor, rainbow over the motorway, not touching it.
arcuindu-se peste autostrad, fr s o ating. a young family protected in time from shame and desolation.
o familie tnr salvat la timp de ruine i dezolare. but those summers are over.
dar verile alea s-au terminat. to revisit would only be an angry detour,
acum n-ar fi dect un ocol furios, changing nothing, amongst the shades.
fr impact, printre umbre.
* *
orele sunt acum din ce n ce mai scurte the hours are becoming shorter, so much shorter
iar verile sunt mai scurte dect orele. and the summers becoming shorter than the hours.

n fiecare an, treci pe lng alt soare. nu-i simi we pass a different sun each year. we dont feel

cldura, simi doar ngheul, cnd dispare.
lumina vine i pleac, fr s aduc,
s duc sau s lase vreo urm.
cineva din trecut de care erai legat prin
magie tia s fac mult farmec n jur.
dup ce ai rupt legturile, nu mai tie
i farmecul i-a rmas ie, n trecut.
* *
pe undeva la un capt, lumea asta
care se zglie se ine bine ntr-o branul. i seringi,
multe seringi s fixeze. pe un hol infectat, ntr-o sli murdar.
cnd s-a terminat pentru el, m-a uitat pe loc,
dar faa lui continu s creasc peste a mea. cnd o s se
termine
i cu ea, o s m uite pe loc. bacteriile o s-i mnnce trsturile,
dar modelul o s-i continue programul. i micua gen letal
o s alunece mai departe, intact, ca o brcu binecuvntat.
114
its heat, just cold, when it vanishes.
light comes and goes, it brings nothing,
takes nothing, leaves no trace.
the man in your past you were connected to by
magic, he could work wonders around him.
since you lost him, he has no more
magic, it is yours alone and in your past.
somewhere at some end, this world
thats shaking is holding fast to a catheter, and syringes,
many syringes pinning it down. in an infected hallway, a dirty
little room.
when for him it was all over, he forgot me at once,
but his face keeps growing over mine, when that is
over, he will forget me at once. bacteria will eat his shape,
but his pattern will go as planned. and the little lethal gene
will slip further, intact, like a blessed little boat.

faa lui i a ei se-amestec pe mine ntruna, mi-e ru. alerg
pe lng lac, m brutalizez s in hormonul fericirii la suprafa.
pe malul cellalt sunt noile blocuri, noile medii de cultur
pentru creterea i dezolarea noilor familii tinere. acolo e
trecutul
cel mai frumos i primele veri, radioactivele. ziua se sfrete
pentru cei vii, luminile se aprind pe marginea lacului,
insectele se strng n jurul becurilor
ca n jurul unor ovule fierbini.
115
his and her face keep mingling in me, Im sick. I run
by the lake, force myself to keep the hormone of happiness
afloat.
on the other side there are new blocks, new culture media
for the growth and desolation of new young families. there we
find the most
beautiful past and the first radioactive summers. day ends
for the living, lights come on at the lakeside,
insects swarm around the bulbs
as though they were round hot ovules.
 116

Domnica Drumea
(b. 1979)

cu sau fr with or without

mi imaginez oraul lui liviu I imagine Livius city

din care pornesc mai multe osele from where highways start
ruptura de mesaj the broken message
despre care vorbeai you mentioned
i m ntreb dac ai fcut-o cu sau fr and I wonder whether or not you did
dac n mirosul de cartofi prjii whether in the fried potato smell
se pot ntmpla lucruri warm slippery
calde i alunecoase things like
ca dragostea love
care de fapt can happen
e att de aproape actually
ca mine its so close
cu fruntea lipit de geam like my
trebuie doar forehead against the window pane
s m ntorc spre fetia mea I can simply
i s-i zmbesc turn to my little girl
 117
delicat and smile
dac nu vorbesc acum cu cineva gently
dac nu ies acum unless I am now talking to someone
pe strad s-mi lipesc going out
corpul de al lui into the street pressing my
s-l srut delicat pe gt body against his
s mergem undeva gently kissing his neck
undeva s dansm lets go somewhere
dac nu and dance
unless...
 118

Linda Maria Baros

(b. 1981)
Q.H.S. Q.H.S.*
(Cartier de maxim siguran) (High Security Ward)

Sunt zile n care ai vrea s-i faci loc
pe marginea ferestrei, s te plimbi linitit,
cu ochii nchii, ca pe un pod hipnotic,
ca pe marginea unei tceri adnci.
(De jos, te privete doar vidul, nlimea lui.)
Some days youd like to make a place for yourself
on the window sill, walk at peace,
eyes closed, as though crossing a hypnotic bridge,
as though at the edge of a deep silence.
(Below, emptiness, its full height looking up at you.)

Ca i cum ai fi altcineva, As though you were someone else,

cu picioarele scpate pn la genunchi feet slipping to the knee
ntr-o tcere adnc, into deep silence,
cineva care s-ar plimba linitit pe acolo. someone walking at peace.
O clip doar, For just a moment,
fiindc aerul zbrelit n fereastr te d la o parte, because air is a latticed window, it pushes you aside,
ca-n pucriile de maxim siguran. its just like high security wards.

i camera te resoarbe n ea. And the room sucks you back in.
* Q.H.S. Quartier de Haute Scurit

SDF
Stau pe brnci btrnii, marii copii ai oraului,
intr-n casele lor de carton de pe trotuare,
se foiesc acolo,
ca i cum i-ar face loc de pe-acum n pmnt.
Se trsc pe cte-o gur de canal aburind
(aa stabilesc ei mai bine legtura cu adncul),
ca nite gini uriae,
care-i clocesc florile, mucegaiul.
Stau pe brnci marii, btrnii copii ai oraului
i scuip-n whitmanul strzii ca-n sup.
Dumnezeul canalelor,
ca pe nite ngeri, i nvluie cu grij ntr-un nor.
119
SDF*
They are lying down, the old, the big children of the city,
they go into their cardboard boxes on sidewalks,
they move about in there,
as if they were already preparing their place in the ground.
They crawl down some steaming canal
(this is how they keep in touch with the world below),
like huge hens,
sitting on their flowers and mould.
They are lying down, those old, big children of the city,
and they spit on whitman streets, as one might spit in soup.
The god of canals
wraps them carefully in a cloud, like angels.
* Sans Domicile Fixe

Elena Vldreanu
(b. 1981)
I Am Not a Plastic Bag
Vnztoarea de la supermarket m privete chior de cte ori
i spun s nu mi mai dea pung.
Nu vreau pung. ncerc s o spun ct mai blnd cu putin,
nu cumva s se simt jignit. O spun ncercnd s zmbesc
sau prefcndu-m c sta este cel mai firesc lucru din lume.
Nu vreau pung. Nu-mi iese. Vreau s fiu eco i nu-mi iese.
Vnztoarea mi ndeas fileul de cod pane, salata energetic
i cele 200 g de msline naturale ntr-o pung alb cu rou
n care a putea s-mi vr capul i s-i nnod toartele n jurul
gtului
n care cei 0,009 copii ai notri ar putea muri asfixiai
Care, n cel mai fericit caz, cltorete spre oceanul pacific
unde se adaug insulei de plastic. Contribui zilnic cu cel puin
o pung
la distrugerea planetei.
Toat lumea tie c nainte de revoluie n romnia nu exista
120
I Am Not a Plastic Bag
The supermarket girl scowls whenever I tell her I dont need
a bag.
I need no bag. I try to say it as gently as I can, trying not to
offend her. I say it with a smile or pretending innocent, as
though its the natural thing to say.
I need no bag. It wont work. I want to do my ecological bit
but it doesnt work. The girl crams my breaded cod fillets,
my energy salad and 200g of organic olives into a white and
red bag
I could put my head in it and tie its handles round my neck
Our 0.009 kids could suffocate to death in it
At best, it travels to the pacific and joins the plastic island
there. I contribute one bag daily
to the destruction of the planet.
Everyone knows that before the revolution there was no
green concern in romania, no gays, no aids.

ecologie, la fel cum nu existau homosexuali i nici sida.
Viaa mea este plin de pungi de plastic, de tone de hrtie,
peturi, sticle, ordonate de-a lungul a doar 20 de ani.
Ce fac cu ele? Unde este colul meu verde? Ct la sut din
viaa mea este limpede i bio?
Visez la un mod de via ct mai ecologic. Nu fumez, nu merg
cu liftul, mi-am luat biciclet.
Cnd m spl pe dini nchid robinetul.
121
My life is full of plastic bags, tons of paper, PET, bottles
ordered over 20 years.
What shall I do with them all? Where is my green corner?
What percentage of my life is clear and environmentally
sound?
I dream of a bio-friendly way of life. I dont smoke, I dont
use the elevator, Ive bought a bike.
When I brush my teeth I turn the tap off.
 122

fat fat

obezitatea contribuie la nclzirea global. obesity increases global warming.

nclzirea global contribuie la creterea numrului de calculi global warming increases the number of kidney stones.
renali. the world does not need you!
lumea nu are nevoie de voi!
obezul consum mai mult mncare i mai mult combustibil the obese need more food and fuel to walk
pentru a se deplasa than a human.
dect o fiin uman.
obezul necesit 2960 de calorii, cu 18% mai mult the obese need 2,960 calories, 18% more
dect o fiin uman, than a human
pentru a avea un nivel acceptabil de energie. to have a decent level of energy.
pentru a-i duce la ndeplinire activitile cotidiene. to carry out their daily routine.
Hello everybody. My name is Amy. I am very fat. Hi everyone. My name is Amy. I am very fat.
Hello Amy! Hi Amy!
s-i exportm pe toi. lets deport them all.
chiar dac pentru asta ar trebui sacrificat teritoriul unui continent. even if we have to sacrifice an entire continent for that.
ce ne d nou obezul? what do the obese produce?
srcie. maimulthranmaimultbaleg. poverty. morefoodmoremanure.
numaiamaer. gazedeser. nupotsmergpejos. ihavenoair. greenhouseeffect. icantwalk.
nghesuial. angoasladistribuirealocurilornavion. crowds. anxietywhilegivingoutplaneseats.
 123
maimulicalculirenali. topireaghearilor. morekidneystones. icebergmelting.
crizaeconomicmondial. economicworldcrisis.

obezitatea este afeciunea secolului. obesity is this centurys disease.

cine dorete s triasc printre atia bolnzi. who wants to live among so many madmen.
cine are curaj s-i lase copilul n preajma lor. who dares leave a child around them.
 124

Claudiu Komartin
(b. 1983)

iubesc acel ora i love that city

a vrea ca dimineaa asta s aib minile tale i wish morning had your hands
pentru c noaptea a fost adnc i rece since the night was deep and cold
adnc i rece, am putea spune deep and cold, we can say

ca o gur de filosof like a philosophers mouth

rtcit printre file lost among dark
ntunecate pages

a vrea ca dimineaa asta s aib spatele tu: i wish morning had your back:
talger acoperit de o piele trandafirie, platter wrapped in pink skin,
sub care pulseaz atrii prietenoi under which friendly stars throb

iubesc acel ora ndeprtat i love that distant city

n care au botezat lumina where they gave your name
blnd a nserrii to the gentle
cu numele tu. evening light.

La debarcader
The green leaf cushions the same dry footprint,
or the childs boat luffs in the same dry chop,
and we are where we were. We were!
(Robert Lowell, The Lesson)
Cnd se-nsereaz, copiii nc mai rd, stropindu-se cu ap
sub privirile pierdute n deprtare ale bunicilor.
Ceva se strecoar printre lucruri, ceva ar vrea s se joace
cu minile tale, dar se las furat de ap,
copaci i frunze nvluite de lumina complice.
La doar civa pai, zidurile zdrelite par s le semene
btrnilor rbdtori,
inndu-i n fonetul blnd al dup-amiezei
lecia de linite.
Razele sunt nite cluze vioaie
pe malul mbrobonat de sclipiri te bucuri i alergi
cu genunchii julii ctre chiocul cu sucuri,
mbrind forme i voci, nghiind lacom
125
On the Wharf
The green leaf cushions the same dry footprint,
or the childs boat luffs in the same dry chop,
and we are where we were. We were!
(Robert Lowell, The Lesson)
At dusk, children are still laughing, splashing in water
watched by grandparents who gaze into the distance.
Something steals in among objects, would like to play
with your hands, but water, trees
and leaves, lost in friendly light, steal it away.
A few steps away, decrepit walls resemble
patient old men,
during a lesson of silence
in the gentle rustle of the afternoon.
Rays are sprightly guides
on the twinkling bank you rejoice and run
to the juice kiosk, with scratched knees,
embracing shapes and voices, greedily swallowing
 126

culorile rsfrnte n undele apei. Chipuri voioase the colours mirrored in the rippling water. Happy faces
plpie nc o clip la debarcader, ca lampioanele chinezeti glimmer shortly on the wharf, like Chinese lanterns
aprinse pentru aceast srbtoare a serenitii. lit for this festival of serenity.

Adrian Alui Gheorghe (1958)
Linda Maria Baros (1981)
Daniel Bnulescu (1960)
Magda Crneci (1955)
Gabriel Chifu (1954)
Dan Mircea Cipariu (1972)
Denisa Comnescu (1954)
Traian T. Coovei (1954-2014)
Ioana Crciunescu (1950)
Nichita Danilov (1952)
Marian Drghici (1953)
Domnica Drumea (1979)
Carmen Firan (1952)
127
Alphabetical Index of Poets
Mihail Glanu (1963) Adrian Popescu (1947)
Horia Grbea (1962) Dan Sociu (1978)
Liviu Georgescu (1958) Peter Sragher (1960)
Bogdan Ghiu (1958) Liviu Ioan Stoiciu (1950)
Ioana Ieronim (1947) Eugen Suciu (1952)
Claudiu Komartin (1983) Robert erban (1970)
Angela Marinescu (1941) Lucian Vasilescu (1958)
Ion Mircea (1947) Lidia Vianu (1947)
Ion Murean (1955) Paul Vinicius (1953)
Alexandru Muina (1973-2013) Matei Viniec (1956)
Mircea Petean (1952) Elena Vldreanu (1981)
Marta Petreu (1955) Andrei Zanca (1952)
ioan es pop (1958) Ion Zubacu (1948)

Information about the Translators
Professor of Modernist and Contemporary
English literature at the English Department of the
University of Bucharest.
Director of Contemporary Literature Press.
Director of the MA Programme for the
Translation of the Contemporary Literary Text.
Recipient of the London Poetry Society
biennial Prize for Poetry Translation Corneliu M.
Popescu, 2005, with Adam J. Sorkin.
Literary critic, translator, writer.
Member of the Romanian Writers Union
and of the Romanian Pen Club.
128
Lidia Vianu
Profesor de literatur englez modern i
contemporan la Departamentul de Englez al
Universitii din Bucureti.
Directorul editurii Contemporary Literature
Press.
Directorul Masteratului pentru Traducerea
Textului Literar Contemporan.
London Poetry Society i-a decernat premiul
bienal Corneliu M. Popescu pentru traducerea
poeziei, n anul 2005, mpreun cu Adam J.
Sorkin.
Critic literar, traductoare, scriitoare.
Membr a Uniunii Scriitorilor din Romnia
i a Pen Clubului Romn.

Poet, reviewer, translator, and provider of
services to poets and poetry organisations.
In 2000, she joined the Post-graduate
Creative Writing programme at Sheffield Hallam
University. In 2003, she was awarded an MA with
Distinction and in 2005, was selected as one of the
Ten Hallam Poets represented in the anthology
published by Mews Press (eds. Sean OBrien,
Steven Earnshaw and E.A. Markham).
In 2008, she won the Bridport Prize for her
sonnet, Still Water, Orange, Apple, Tea.
Her first collection, The Janus Hour, was
published by Oversteps Books in 2010.
She has a 25 year background in
commercial work: Accounting, Project
Management, Training & Mentoring, IT &
Systems Development.
Anne founded the poetry p f website as a
provider of services to poets in 2005 and maintains
129
Anne Stewart
Poet, recenzent, traductoare i
colaboratoare a unui mare numr de poei i
organizaii care sprijin poezia.
S-a nscris n anul 2000 la Masteratul de
Creative Writing de la Sheffield Hallam
University. L-a absolvit n anul 2003, iar n
anul 2005 a fost inclus n grupul Celor zece
poei Hallam publicai n antologia Mew
Press editat de Sean OBrien i E.A.
Markham.
n anul 2008 a ctigat Bridport Prize
cu sonetul Still Water, Orange, Apple, Tea.
A publicat prima carte de poezie, The
Janus Hour, la Oversteps Books n anul 2010.
A lucrat 25 de ani n comer:
contabilitate, Project Management, Training
i Mentorat, IT.
A nfiinat site-ul poetry pf n folosul
poeilor n anul 2005. Se ocup de acesta i

both the poetry p f and SecondLightLive web-sites;
she is a part-time (3 days a month) administrator
for Second Light, a network of women poets, and
completes the design and layout of Second Lights
twice-yearly journal, ARTEMISpoetry.
130
de site-ul SecondLightLive. Colaboreaz la
reeaua poetelor-femei numit Second Light.
Se ocup de grafica revistei acestei reele,
ARTEMISpoetry,
 131

Information about the Illustrator

Cristina Ioana Young practises Cristina Ioana Young este medic oftalmolog n
Ophthalmology in the South of France. Sudul Franei.
She is also interested in Pe lng profesia de medic, picteaz,
painting, photography and writing. fotografiaz i scrie proz i poezie.
132