alb
obrazul ceasului
lăcrimează cifre romane
pe umerii tăi
întorc privirea
un gînd trecător
ca un painajen
secundele
se îngrămădesc
de atîta frig
apoi adorm
adînc
în noi
white
clock's face weeping
roman numbers
over your shoulders
a passing thought
like a spider
so cold
time is falling asleep
inside us
Te descopăr.
Suntem doi ciorapi:
eu negru, tu rupt;
eu- supraelastic,
tu- realist.
În călcâi fiecare
avem o iluzie:
eu- un picior,
tu- perechea…
* *
Les chaussettes
Je te découvre :
nous sommes deux chaussettes :
moi- noire, toi- trouée ;
moi- supra élastique ;
toi- réaliste.
Dans le tendon
chacun d’entre nous
avons une illusion :
moi- un pied ;
*în cinstea „morților din cada mea” / *in honour of „the corpses in my tub”
„tell the world that I’m coming home”
as if life would lie beyond the bars
of a city just as bleak as you
I feel that I cry after a corpse
who leaves the awning
for the last time
I want to cling onto him
to kiss him on the mouth
in the hope I’ll be kissed back
my love flies over centuries
you’ll not be here to slash my words
nights shall be luminated
in a glass of water from moldavia’s head
I’ll keep jolting my fingers in seeds
and I shall never cry
on the shoulder standing in line behind you
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