by Dorina Brândusa Landén
On the snowy field furrowed by blizzard
with pale drifts you come
sliding on a sleigh of sentiments
from mountains grounded up by frost
towards the lake where the moon washes its metal
a white path flawless carved
hither now and then
let's have a wander: to stay for a moment
up on the hill in the silvery forest
above the smog
from city of glass and stone
which I left
without ever going back.
*
* *
Let's walk around our Europe
and on everyone that swell up in autoportraits
filling up to the mouth of the abyss
with sterile speeches
pygmies born from stone
raising the same walls in different houses
jobbing plastic models
among burned boundaries -
the traditional art
in which all parts are broken
a noble sport
of the transfiguration of the countries
ay of how much we need – I myself
stumbling towards tomorrow.
Let's go. Go to ...
Who keeps nudging my back
and who incites the demented?
Those irenic and careless
are dancing into worship
of history and of deed.
Let's break into the rights
of the grassroots
especially into the obligations that turn him into
a colourful puppet
learning to laugh to cry to give birth
to die.
Let’s feast from ourselves
to carry our petty wars
against a symmetrical world.
Last updated June 06, 2014