Poezii

Nicolae Sirius Above the wind Someone above the wind washing his hands, Enveloped by blood. A road leading down Takes us to a tavern full of verdigris mouths Spreading the tang of having inhabited The ocean's capacious sea-bed. Come here. Come home, said a voice; Whom is this mouth calling? Has this mouth kissed the water? The man who was washing his hands Suddenly departs, the road has turned green And, growing, has coiled itself up Like a snail. Nobody walks it, its steps Are celestial. You know there is blood throbbing In the place where violent death harried? Come, let us eat. Come home quickly, A voice murmurs. There are many voices calling, each to the other. Some are in love, others Are gambolling briskly, and reply only To sounds too distant for you. Do you remember that trawler, the net Thrown over the trees? Two venerable men - How young they were to me then - Now in a rage to remember. Poetry page