Le dépôt
Verglas
Verglas
Constantin Pricop
Verglas
Traduction du roumain en anglais d'Alexandru Pricop
The Abyss may open where you don’t expect it…
The Abyss may open anywhere
In what may appear livelier than anything
May the abyss open its jaws
It is not important to understand
Out of the blue, you are face to face with the void
You wake up
The Others don’t see anything, there is something look at you
Only you
The elephants always move forward, impassively
(No? No! -The jester answers…)
And suddenly a gaze which is not
A gaze opens in your view
An eye which cannot see in your eye which sees
Wait for me, you wish to say
But you say nothing.
She stretches her arms
She stretches her arms
That’s all
I don’t know if this happens during the morning or the evening
She believes she can fly
But nothing happens, nothing.
In her eyes, I saw her eyes:
Terror, longing, cold
So, she does not see it daily
She is absorbed by her gaze that is launched very far
Towards infinity,
Or something similar
A line of light, steel once muscle
In mute penumbra
And over the planet the curtain fell
And discussions over everything began
Right this moment.
Cheap coincidence.
I watch her
I watch her as she watches
She watches her palms
Her right palm
A simple leaf of a small palm tree
Her left palm a paw which unsheathes its claws
On the face of the day its left-hand leaves profound marks
Inside the day, the most hurtful place
The bats come out of the gallery
Explosion
That’s it.
Memory
I go through memory as if through the big frozen north
From an icepack to another
Small icepack
From an episode to another
Between fragments filled until overflow with cold
(made solid in their isolation, in their own dead souls)
A restless sea
I don’t know why it jumps like this
From a ragged memory to another
Instead of a slow fall
In darkened depths
True life, you say?
Disorder, warm animality of bodies…
No signs of punctuation
Perpetually drifting.
A Spring
It was a seraphic
Spring which I have never relived …
With wind still fresh
With patches of fog where the sun was already radiating
Birds are not flying.
The air is heavy, acid
The end of the sky embarrassingly withers
The sky being the bottom of a reserved aquarium. Poisoned.
Dead leaves pierced with green
I am here to seek the new grass.
Under the dead layer, the bells of the mushrooms
Love…refreshes... drifted apart…
Edible Mushrooms; Poisonous Mushrooms
Fixing the night
Fixing the night in front of my eyes.
Mirror with a handle.
Behind her
Everything which was held
In the air
By the strings
Of light rays
Falls
A type of paste of darkness
Glues to the fingers
Opaque color
Fur freshly skinned
From an object or another
Warm blood
Studs
Made of Nickel
And crocodiles with
Toothy smiles
Exercise in forgetting
For a long time
I regularly practice exercises in forgetting
There are so many things worth forgetting
Some because they are not anymore,
Others, due to them being too many
To forget to not suffocate
(obviously…)
That is how I view
Through the metallic cracks of the clouds
Clouds of Zinc
Clouds of Iron
Clouds of Copper
Every second
They suck out from us fine particles
Look at us, being sucked out by the metallic clouds
While I was doing my exercise to forget
Today I forgot the numbers
What’s left, tomorrow
4th of September 1998
Have you been happy?
(Let’s be, serious, I wish to say)
I didn’t answer
I left the question to fall
A withered leaf, a ball of lint
Nobody waits for it
A trifle, what else…
The Scene from Dieppe with a mild sun, very tender
(this, obviously, for décor)
At the end of the afternoon
Which strangulates the beach of pebbles
I saw a fort, or something
Like that that. I like to watch
With intensity, until the point in which I see
Blue beings, translucid and
Quiet, which calmly fly
Through the sky, above us
Towards the sea
To launch itself in the dusk
Nobody realises
The children are peacefully playing
As if nothing had happened
The Seagulls
Look for remnants along the paths