Violet Summer
It’s long since it was so violet a summer
The colour I’m so much fond of being in fashion again
With all its shades
from pink into blue
It’s long since it was so exotic a summer
with so many landscapes
and exotic fruits.
the ball of seeds of the mango
a fibrous limp
that cracks between the thighs
of the core yellow
and too much sweet scented with fragrances
as man’s heart cracks in him sometimes
for his superabundant self.
It’s long since it was so fatal a summer
And for so much ease it’s too hard for you
And for so much good. it’s too bad for me.
Mulberries and poppies
With a poppy only
You brought me the summer
Its tenderness
is my tenderness also:
I wither away in a life
as it does in a day.
The same one
In which on the fly I picked up for you
mulberries purple quite ripe,
thinking that you also would be thinking
of childhood.
For every childhood looked at from behind
shows its own image:
Well, happy
with mulberries soiled !
You then picked up a red poppy for me
I also picked up black mulberries for you
purple also
For each other we stole
– from no one-
The grass tender
scanty and short
facing the town so large
got tired of warm and much height.
Red and black. Black and red.
An exchange.
You took me to your mouth and I took you to my mouth
Kissing me
kissing you.
Kissing
each other.
O,
Poetry
my sensitive memory
word for word
disclosed !
Small world
How small the world is!
I am
Where you also have been.
And you
Where I also have been.
I just imagine you
coming in, then out
coming out, then in
coming in once again
of the thighs of the seas:
like a dolphin playing on the waves
like a man
possessing a woman
like a proficient swimmer
streaming with water
on the seashore.
And now if I pass my tongue across my lips
I taste the marine salt
On my face?
On your face?
I’m looking forward to seeing you
tasting you
As you taste
some good purple wine
before you enjoy it
and before it
all intoxicated
makes you get dead-drunk.
Shades
As if in secret mourning I have ever worn shades of mauve,
.while awaiting you
I ‘ve been writing poems
for you
since we did not even know each other.
When you read them
And saw yourself suddenly in them
You were scared stiff as if
of your own image
emerged all at once
Multiplied
And cast
often
and with all speed
by the windows of a long train whistling
as passing by your train
stopped in the opposite direction.
Or of your own image
Repeatedly reversed
Trembled
Drowned
In the glasses ever deeper
Of the ever many other waters
still of the same river
estranged and floating into the other side
of the world.
Now
that we have met
is much more fatal than
when we never knew each other.
And all my old love poems
Have come but shades
Of one violet poem.
The translatable periphrases
Of my untranslatable
LONGING
Magic words
Eyes green
poisonous
Painful eyes:
Like those of the men after they have their random drink
Like those of the women in travail:
With contractions ever swifter
ever splitting
ever more often
As if they gave birth
to other eyes:
bluish.
Eyes green
with poison
poisonous
as poison
Painful eyes:
As if they had poised each other.
As if the left eye
had bewitched the right eye.
And the right eye the left eye.
Though they cannot see
each other.
Inaccessible
to each
other
Just as a woman
for a couple of days only every month
and from waist to toes only
like
a land mermaid
becomes inaccessible to her man
they both much better feeling
that they cannot touch completion
but together.
(Traducere de Olimpia Iacob)
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