Eugen EVU

 

The white flowers

 

When it snows your forgotten name

It disappears from the sky like the trace of a bird

cradle of the shadow

white flowers

 

and as if, from far away, we return to the time lived

together

from ourselves getting rid

clepsydra asleep

cradle or shadow

white flowers severed kiss

 

suffering accomplice, you

like Iov collapsed in rhetoric

Blizzards are

from birth even

those fascinated by dual knowledge

 

cradle of shadow

white flowers

scream of the wing

which is not born

inside is perdition

in the gentle beast

 

in hunger of oneself

time, which keeps us

 

 

prisoners like the print of bird

cradle of the shadow

sparkle of the sweet

fear, on a rose

 

snow at harvest

suddenly losing memory

Time: does not exist,

Dad's beloved Gloria.

 

 

Lyrical motifs

 

Compassion of man

Compassion of man towards man

Or the fear that bites matter

with fallen fire

from gods' hands?

Compassion of man, alien in human,

Alien, in the cruelty of nature

And the gods

 

 

Silvania

 

Romanian nouns for us:

TIMP (masculine)

or VREME (feminine)

One derives from Latin (the Latin pater)

The other one derives from Russian (the Slav mama)

 

The truthful one has retired in the Gardens of Gethsemane

on the ancient mountain Cogaion

 

in the rustling of the rainbow over the Carpathians

in the swishing of poetry over the customs

Of the Forest

The woods have always known us:

with the cradle, with the graves, with the moon

over the tops of the trees

with the forehead de-leafing in doine/ daine

„the forest is brother with the Romanian!”

with the eagles of the nothingness on the shoulder of the cross

the woods have known us, always

with the sight above

fallen from the eagles,

from the lightning.

The woods have dreamt of us, have flown us

Sometimes tragically: through tearing.

 

 

The gift

 

Non ex nihilo. Deus

has created ci of himself

 

is no comprehended infinity

he re projected himself

 

somewhere we are also

fugitives of the eternal

return

with our Durations

rotating

one in sacrifice

multiple.

 

 

Sorrow

 

What is the use of the wisdom of sorrow

Of loss its flowering, of god its shadow

What is the use of its juicy fruit

So that the worm can rejoice?

Death takes back its part

The madness of the work does not justify the sacrifice

The one who counts the eagles the bees in winter

He destroys his nest, he makes his honey wild,

he pulls his grass on the horizon

 

the sky line dances bare feet on futile

pain

they do not interrupt the eternity of the graves fallen

shoulders

 

what is the use of the wisdom of sorrow

to itself while the flame burns

adding to extinction

 

it is accomplice with his own death, like birth

it burns on

I suppose

the god would rejoice

 

 

Lyrical project

 

How can we discern utilities

On the infinite horizontal stairs

Of beings?

Bees extras the nectar of the elites

Files disintegrate the corpse

 

what does the poet extract from

the celestial gardens

from the mystery of the graves

from the nadir of tragedies

from everywhere and nowhere

from the beast of light

from the subcua ntic

crystals

(the game can continue

with the sweet complicity of the

reader: an answer does

not resist. But truth I tell you:

only questions define man –

questions answer).

 

Translated by: Mariana ZAVATI and John Eduard GARDNER

(din proiectul The Jakobite ladder , Norfolk , U.K. , 2005)