Poezii

Nicolae Sirius Death of Europe Hissing snakes withdrew into underground forests: Europe was a game A cross We carried in our scales. Some speculate That Europe is not dead It still trades And has recently raised The price of uranium. Its warships increase In sophistication, and an angel >From across the seas Watches over her As over an innocent, still unspoilt child. Long ago Someone said that Europe was a bloodbath And even the stars, Gazing at her tremulously, Burn off And grind into metal-gray dust. Cannon-eyed metal wreaths rose In her place. As dargsmen, what would you know? You have learned To kiss and fondle the silicon. I was told Europe was a princess And she became enamoured Of a golden calf She had met at a ball (Just as a wave clings To an oar) And she wore her bridal gown Hemmed about the restiveness of planets. And everyone came to woo her Offering her giant mother-of-pearls Which later opened up Like coffins. She was sad, as if permeated By the sorrow of autumn. She was angry with Hitler, who wanted To kidnap and conceal her under a rock Of aversion. She was Othello's disconsolate Spouse; but one stormy night She met a man who was to tell All her misfortunes: "Look, your gown is undone, I think you're courting great danger; Listen, don't try to make out You're still a virginal bride; Stop overacting - after all, You're not a harlot But a woman of prodigious elegance; For you kings went barmy; For you they die every day. Stop deflecting Or you may lose the moon From the chignon of your hair." There was a time When Brahms saw her too. And Brancusi; He loved her speechlessly Offering her a Table of Silence And sculpting her body Into the raptures of the Endless Column. Poetry page