Poezii

Nichita Stãnescu The ascension of words Thus, like the skin of a shorn ewe, the day rises. It is difficult to skin the self from a stone. It is difficult to skin memory from a Greek. But why should we talk about these! After all, light too has a skin, light too can be skinned... So light too is guilty of being. A gust of fresh air comes with the millenium. We are beautiful; why should we not be beautiful? We eat one another only from hunger, from adoration, from structure, from love. It doesn't matter. We are what we are, that is, beautiful. I carry my ever still blood in my heart. I carry my ever salt tear in my eye. I carry the angel in the middle of heaven. From the book "Bas-Relief with Heroes" english translation by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru. Poetry page