Four Poems by Dorin Popa
Ansiedad
your unsteady feet, with indefinite
faltering forms
have built defiant columns inside meyou come to me
on the arm of a stranger
and your nights of love
are my nightswhen I first met you
you were wearing the sign I expected
you were wearing in wonder that sign
through which, once I united myself with youirritated, you put me at the pillory
but your eyes, all in tears, were surreptitiously calling me
softly and mixtured they talked to me
and I was thrilled to hear
that, suddenly, someone inside me was rejecting you
someone angry, frightened, dispossessedthat same night I saw
how the hand which was rejecting you touched you
and the mouth cursing you, wanted to taste you
later, much later
I' ll hide myself
from you
in your arms
Hardly had I left the house
when, all of a sudden, implacable
all the doors closed hermetically
exactly when I was about to leave
this house
this life
this death
oh, so many things are to be done
when nothing is left to be
done
but the belief that you will
finally come
tired me so much!and if you come
and if you don' t come
in vain are my ships
that I' ll start building
tomorrow morninghardly had I left
this house
this life
when a trembling voice murmured
that my few talents
are the last talents of the world.
Love Story
(I keep choosing you)when I was going down, I thought I was going up
I was sick, bewitched by my boundaries
an inner voice - unknown to me - was mumbling
that inside is outside, that outside is
deep deep inside
then I saw you for the first time
long after I had held you tight in my arms
my memory has chosen you and I keep choosing you
each moment I find myself alive in you, but
I will go away, not to lose you
If Hölderlin should comesometimes the melancholy wins
and beyond all heavens
childhood stretches devastatinglyif Hölderlin should come
the sky will set free sweet songs
of resurrection
and the eye of the needle will close
the freight train will run
over my neck no more)if Hölderlin should come
only the bells
will be heard in the distance
and voices of children in a fervent choir.
all that is elusive will have a shape
all that is unborn ...
... will be born,
if Hölderlin should come
Write to [email protected] Back to Of(f)course home page