Ileana URSU

THE EYES

The eye of Noel
Can see all.
It takes in its blue
Every move,
Every change,
The whole range of colours.
What it can see
Multiplies in the other people’s eyes.
Those who have the same name,
With the same intentions,
Those who believe they are the creators of the world,
Have eyes void of pupils.

They can see what Noel
Can see for them.

Dream

I habour green seasons
Lively and sweet-smelling.
I travel without moving
Beyond unknown boundaries,
Delighted at the dreams.
I do not live in the virtual world,
In the computerized time.
I am in the dream,
In the steams of the thought.

I travel like the trees –
Without moving.



In the Park 

The walks are no longer
Meaningful
The paces know the lanes,
The eyes know
The leafy plants,
I no longer start
At the breath of the wind.
The walks no longer ask for
A bit of courage.
I fail to find out new paces,
I can no longer hear bird songs,
The sounds no longer draw me.

I keep walking,
And in my mind I come across old acquaintances.
They, too, no longer feel like
Finding out new things.

In the park,
Where I have missed
So many years,
Noel
Keeps walking.



Poem

I fell asleep thinking of a poem,
Aware of its presence
In the air,
In the pores of my skin,
In the last cigarette smoke.
It slowly withdrew
Like an indefinite breeze
In the pillow,
In the white flakes of snow that awaited my dreams.

I fell asleep thinking of a poem,
Aware of its own uniqueness
And that is why it hadn’t wrapped up in words.

Maybe now also,
Like a vague gentle breeze,
It moves the flakes
In the pillow.


Without Dreams

What is the way without dreams-
Without the amazing dream
 Stirring the point of the pencil?
A travel that in the end
Gathers up words
From a dream longed for
At the beginning of the way.
OF THE DREAM.


(from Ileana Ursu. Nu mă numesc Noel.
Editura LIBERTATEA Panciova 2004.)

Traduceri de Olimpia Iacob