Poezii

Nichita Stãnescu Burned forest Black snow was falling. The tree line shone when I turned to see - I had wondered long and silent, alone, trailing memory behind me. And it seemed the stars, fixed as they were, ground their teeth, a stiffened nexus, an infernal machine, tolling the halted hours of conciousness. Then, a thick silence descends, and my every gesture leaves a comet tail in the heavens. And I hear evey glance I cast as it echoes against some tree. Child, what were you seeking there, with your gangly arms and pointed shoulders on which the wings were barely dry - black snow drifting in the evening sky. A horizon howling, far from view, darting its tongues and anthracite, dragged me forever down the mute row, my body, half naked, sliding from sight. In distances of smoke the town afire, blazing beneath the planes, a frigid pyre. We two, forest, what did we do? Why did they burn you, forest, in a toga of ash - and the moon no longer passes over you? From the book "Bas-Relief with Heroes" english translation by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru. Poetry page