Apr 26, 2010
The young people (Tinerii) by Nichita Stanescu
0 comentarii Publicat de Pure Wish la 4/26/2010 10:25:00 PM
They kiss, ah, they kiss, they kiss
the young people on the streets, in bars, on fences,
they keep kissing as if they
only were some terminations
of the kiss.
They kiss, ah, they kiss through the running cars,
in the subway stations, in the cinemas,
in the buses, they desperately kiss,
violently, as if
at the end of the kiss, after the kiss
there's only the unavoidable old age
and death.
They kiss, ah, they kiss the thin young people
and in love. So thin, as if
they would ignore bread's existence in this world.
So in love, as if, as if
they would ignore world's existence itself.
They kiss, ah, they kiss as if
in the darkness, in the most secure darkness,
as if no one could see them, as if
the sun was about to rise
bright
only
after the torn and bleeding from all the kissing mouths
wouldn't be able to kiss
but with the teeth.
the young people on the streets, in bars, on fences,
they keep kissing as if they
only were some terminations
of the kiss.
They kiss, ah, they kiss through the running cars,
in the subway stations, in the cinemas,
in the buses, they desperately kiss,
violently, as if
at the end of the kiss, after the kiss
there's only the unavoidable old age
and death.
They kiss, ah, they kiss the thin young people
and in love. So thin, as if
they would ignore bread's existence in this world.
So in love, as if, as if
they would ignore world's existence itself.
They kiss, ah, they kiss as if
in the darkness, in the most secure darkness,
as if no one could see them, as if
the sun was about to rise
bright
only
after the torn and bleeding from all the kissing mouths
wouldn't be able to kiss
but with the teeth.
broken roses
To Galateea (Catre Galateea) by Nichita Stanescu
0 comentarii Publicat de Pure Wish la 4/26/2010 10:04:00 PM
I know all your times, all your moves, all your perfumes
and your shadow, and your silences, and your breast
what shiver they have and what color,
and your walk, and your melancholy, and your eyebrows,
and your blouse, and your ring, and the second
and I can't wait anymore and I put my knee in rocks
and I beg you,
give birth to me.
I know what's far from you,
so far, that close doesn't exist anymore-
afternoon, after the skyline, after the sea...
and everything that is after them,
and so far, that it doesn't have a name.
That's why I bend my knee and put it
on the rock's knee, which is humming.
And I beg you,
give birth to me.
I know everything that you never know, from inside you.
The heartbeat that follows the one you're hearing now,
the end of the word whose first syllable you're just saying
trees- wooden shadows of your veins,
rivers- moving shadows of your blood,
and rocks, the rocks- rock shadows of my knee,
which I bend in front of you and I beg you,
give birth to me. Give birth to me.
and your shadow, and your silences, and your breast
what shiver they have and what color,
and your walk, and your melancholy, and your eyebrows,
and your blouse, and your ring, and the second
and I can't wait anymore and I put my knee in rocks
and I beg you,
give birth to me.
I know what's far from you,
so far, that close doesn't exist anymore-
afternoon, after the skyline, after the sea...
and everything that is after them,
and so far, that it doesn't have a name.
That's why I bend my knee and put it
on the rock's knee, which is humming.
And I beg you,
give birth to me.
I know everything that you never know, from inside you.
The heartbeat that follows the one you're hearing now,
the end of the word whose first syllable you're just saying
trees- wooden shadows of your veins,
rivers- moving shadows of your blood,
and rocks, the rocks- rock shadows of my knee,
which I bend in front of you and I beg you,
give birth to me. Give birth to me.
broken roses
;;
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