Three and half (poem by Florin Caragiu, English translation: Corina Gina Papouis)

it is cold and the morning is approaching. I’m not fighting evil, I’m too tenderised
by the sadness of cut down apricot trees. the silence used to watch floating sticks
leaves me with the fear of your unexpected arrival. I am ready to fight
before turning to sleep, although no challenge is reaching me. I fight
for you, for the darkness of smoke tightly spent.

I withdraw when victory bewilders me. only then I see
how much I have lost through one single breath and I understand that things are digging out my thought. the water remembers the ongoing swirl
and the abyss of your leaving. I drink it with the same thirst
I get hit by words, when the props withdraw
and I burry your image in the garden, for later,
when no disavowing can threaten it. I dress up slowly,
keeping unharmed the warmth of the lips. You cannot hear me, but you behave
as if you’re listening to some spur of the nearby. and now we are
hundreds of miles apart, but is good to have space
when you love. the number only takes into account the force of striking
into walls, when the body is already half buried
and only its emerging song is keeping it alive.


(poem published in the volume "Sentic", Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2009, p. 9. English translation: Corina Gina Papouis)