Mircea Ivănescu – Poems

Night

In some of us, when we turn away

from the others, there is a terrace

to the sea – but rarely we go out at night

to look at the waves advancing on the wood floor bringing

algae – therefore we know we stumble

of crabs – (some of them could grab by

your leg – but is a wound inverted

to other meanings – it neither hurts, nor

is gently venomous – it is only a grip

between two soft pair of pincers, like fingers – nothing else).

We kick them back into the water. We linger

a while on the porch looking the dark sea.

That when we go out on this stage covered

with the light of the moon, under the assault of the waves.

Most often, we stay in the room,

and this is called solitude.

deafening occurence

fear – are there words to say as

the fear truly is? how you feel, for example, when you pass

the corner – and, unawares, you come across her, much fog in her hair,

and the hand, holding him by the arm? and is, suddenly,

she – passing you, just bowing her

head – and around the night is all at once sublime

and screams – and you want to shake your head, with rashly hands

over the ears, and run – as far as you can. (as it is,

you jog on beyond, as there would be

nothing true, they have passed away, the street doesn’t matter anymore,

although is her ​​street.) no longer

continue this moment. – it was. – it passed away. –

and she, sharply, awesome strange, holding him

by arm, next to him, shaking off

against your rave – nor she heard it – when you saw her passing by.

and fog, on a squalid street –

The year that fails

The autumn, certainly, may be as a colorful picture

in a glossy magazine – (an advertisement for cigarettes,

where you would like to go, under huge trees,

with weird small fireworks flickering overhead, and in the grass

glides, alike a round snake, the cat).

In autumn it is good to go out until the end of the garden,

and looking about for the lizards lying on the wall parched by the sun,

and if you lean your head back you feel

as the year fails to the winter –

and you get cold. Afterwards, with the cat in your arms,

you sit at the window looking on how the garden fades –

In English by Ioan Radu Văcărescu