Eugen Jebeleanu
translated by Matthew Zapruder and Radu Ioanid
I hear the sounds of a beautiful performance.
Daggers battle, then come to life,
and men die.
There is a sidereal indifference in the eyes
of my lover.
Ask what and where it happened.
The rest you can tell me some other time.
I pass a hand over my heart
through the shots they are firing
in order to calm her.
Far away weepy thoughts summon lightning,
then arrange themselves like snipers advancing
towards the potatoes which must emerge
tomorrow morning
with innocent newborn eyes.
But the bullets are falling harmlessly
from the barrels of the guns
without wounding anyone.
The wind has stopped.
At dawn the potatoes will retreat once again
into their angelic order ...
Even if it seems that you're dead
you need to do everything
as if you were alive.
Let them believe that you still can fight.
Grow your snout longer,
in order to scare them.
Blow out your hollow cheeks.
And don't lie moaning in a sepulchral vault.
Lie moaning under a tent.
At St. Nicholas church
we children blowing out candles
walking between tombstones
made happy by honeyflames
the soul of the hyacinths acknowledging us
oh happiness of Resurrection!
The compass of the falling stars
lulling us from the sky
And the laughing of teenage girls
where are they now?
And all who were and are no longer
And the chirping of those little birds
I donŐt die I donŐt die I donŐt die