when everything crumbles and falls into the open eye
to feel loved all around
without needing any proof
without having to strip bark
off the trees
to cover up the hole in your chest
as if the only thing you do is to
love your close one just the way he is,
disregarding the cut in your body and soul
that was put to sleep
under a layer of forgiveness
like the new skin that grows
beneath an old burn
(poem published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, p. 8. English translation: Simona Sumanaru)
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