Să faci plimbări lungi prin Paris.
Să nu prinzi rădăcini niciunde.
Să afli că pe unii îi cheamă Racine.
Să stai cu picioarele într-un lighean cu apă caldă barocă.
In profesia de dascăl.
În marja unui bloc roșu congestionat de semafoare.
Cu iederă grea.
Cu iederă grea care trece pe casele de alături.
În singurul discurs care îți torăie în cap.
Dacă acest discurs ar fi torrent sigur cineva ar descărca filme
Cu tot cu scările la rai
(o sutană scursă din torrent)
Luați mâncați bucurați-vă, mie îmi rămâne spectrul cheii
Pe gaura ei să mă împușc cu un pistol de apă strepezită
Care, luând forma cheii, devine sâmbătă.
Iar voi urcând scările de ață
La noduri simțiți că depășiți buric după buric
Când lumea e bună și plină de oameni.
At the end of the night
a tone of air, a voice like the lines at the Louvre
by letting an elephant die:
a vinyl with all of your silence
scratched with a brain learning how to forget you.
Not even id I were to bury it, your palate would not be heavy,
not even if I were to listen to it, your flesh will not appear.
A microphone pulls up beneath every place that snows.
Nichita Stănescu (March 31, 1933 in Ploieşti – December 13, 1983 in Bucharest) was a Romanian poet and essayist. He is the most acclaimed contemporary Romanian language poet, loved by the public and generally held in esteem by literary critics.
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
They reached my by searching
What happens if a neighbour hurts my trees?
and I am happy and rebel as the blood that
rises all by himself from the spears and leaves
to get a drink in some pub:
what beautiful women were torn there
like the reptile’s belly that speaks to you,
the wall has sold our dreams and now he’s explaining it to for us
with gestures and big beans.
They reached me by searching
what happens if a neighbour hurts my trees?
and I am happy and eternally bald as like a bag of potatoes
waiting in a train stations for the earth to be something more,
spinning and spinning. Think of what you have to forgive me, so I can see
what apples I can take out of the murder. They had me sown with wavelets
and, so I don’t rip away, they keep making calls to one other…