Only a grain of sand can find room
between our hearts.
                                A pearl might appear
                    out of  it
the void also  might start
 with it…



A¾black…U¾green, O¾blue…

                            Arthur Rimbaud

Awaked I am by a word I have dreamt
Without hearing it¾a colour state;
Unprinted and unwritten
It is only a drop of unspeaking paint.

And I wonder whether it is useful
The word that nothing designates
The slave’s vague thrill
Charm of rainbow heavenly remaining speechless…

And till I strive to find the answer
It is dawn…and I give up asking
Because  their trumpets are still silent state of colour
When they wake up.
A¾cold, U¾fear, O¾nostalgia
                      Paul Verlaine

When it is  scorching hot as the hay
In the motionless field in the twilight
Or when it is cool as the stalk covered with dew¾
The word is not heard but sensed.

Even the Supreme Being puts in it
Unrest of thought and living
Alchemizing with fire, earth and thought
As if a new world were coming into being.


So, you, the everlasting namer of all that is around
make naming bound to name be longed for¾
The genuine fruit which truth makes ripen
Through which death itself is justified.

I look at you as if I were day-dreaming
star with greenish-yellow light
naively or, maybe, ordinarily I keep thinking
that   you, too,  might be some sort of  fist-like quince
that squeezes itself out of  light or¾
orange-greenish crystals of amber you might be…

I keep contemplating you in the most ordinary perpetuation of thoughts
Autumnal star, until the bears of the darks that come  at dawn invade you
And swallow you 
               and you
Until the evening  about to come will look for redemption in the belly
Of the darks, just like Jonah
in the belly of the great fish…

every evening the clouds of the night
will bury you
Pale star and in your turn
You’ll be coming out from the floating grave¾the evidence
of the possible revival of
what has happened
and now is light.
Tranduceri de Olimpia IACOB