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Constantin Pricop

Verglas - traductions roumain - anglais d'Alexandre Pricop

Constantin Pricop



Verglas

 








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