my blood is dripping in the semi-dark
I can almost light it up with a match
there is a mute man there who slowly comes to
resemble me
I try to duck
with the innocence of he who, overwhelmed by the blow,
runs his arm over his forehead for a moment
as if he were pulling himself out of a dream
the cry teaches me to open my mouth
the door slowly rotates
the pages of the book hang in the air
while the wall suddenly turns warm
(poem published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, p. 5. English translation: Simona Sumanaru)
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu