White upon White

(Alb pe alb)


I write

White upon white,

Although I know that no one

Will be able to read this,

Not even me

After I will have forgotten what I wrote.

The good it’s always

Hard to understand –

It’s easier to accept a heresy

In paradise

Than a voluntary human sacrifice.


I’m stubborn

To write white upon white

Although they tell me

To use at least

Glaring letters,

When I draw olive branches

Or boring good




now and here

I have only one color

Which is able

To include them all

And I write,

In vain,

White upon white.







That is, rather than the truths,

Much more their undulating

And vainglorious human appearances,

Not acknowledging even to the gods

A greater fame

Than an amazing


With us –


Thus it was for me

The last wit:

More fearful of immortality

Than of death.



In a Wound

(Într-o rană)


We live in a wound

Without knowing

Whose is the wounded body,

And not even why.

The only assurace is the pain

That surrounds us,

The hurt

Whereon our presence

Taint her

When it tries to cure.



Different Languages

(Limbi diferite)


His loneliness gave birth to us,

His loneliness created the world,

To bring us into the world

Beside him,

To have someone to talk to.

I knew we were made up

And we exist

To be able to answer him,

But I didn’t know

– And neither He the omniscient

did not foresee –

That we speak different languages.







At first

It seemed like an insult

The very idea of likeness,


Little by little,

I felt disgusted

And my pride melted away

Like a wax

Awaiting the seal.



I would like to resemble someone

Or someone to look like me,

But also before,

And after

Figure One

It’s dark.


Traducere în limba engleză de Ioan Radu Văcărescu

Lasă un răspuns

Adresa ta de email nu va fi publicată. Câmpurile obligatorii sunt marcate cu *