Translated from the Romanian by Victor Pambuccian
Only Loneliness
Only loneliness knows what a word is
only the rain knows when you’ll leave for good
you listen on the phone to how a friend’s cat is purring
and you let streets fall into ravines
there is so much negligence in me
the books on the bookshelves don’t protect me
you love the umbrella with a hole in it, don’t you,
the one you once wanted to turn into a lampshade
askance clouds watch you from the ceiling
the infinite is teeming on the mirror’s back
that’s the fate of those who get born
that’s the mask of those with the gift of speech
the cat is purring on the phone, my old man,
only loneliness knows what a word is.
When I’ll Cease To Be Human
The opportunity to be in this life
of which I am complaining day in, and day out
the opportunity to have tongue with olives for lunch
the opportunity to take a walk in front
of the block of flats I live in
to gather from the air the sad thoughts of people
like a supersonic magnet
is there such a thing?
I am the one I’m telling myself
we are so lonely on this planet
prey to the climate viruses kings presidents
we move some fingers and are afraid
we look out the window and are afraid
blood is gushing from eyes every moment
we are so anomalous
gushes of disfigured blood human life
when I’ll cease to be human, I’ll truly live.
On Moon’s Street
To Nina, in memoriam
To live
on moon’s street
to have above you
matchsticks
the illusion of the sea in your ears
some paving stones
to love you blindly
recognizing your step
every time it stumbles over them
and a unique elevator
to lead you throughout your life
to a terrace
some clouds
to greet you
every day
and to walk your fingers
as if playing melodies on a piano
until the last moment
of this life
this cosmically beautiful life.
Also, read a book review of Temsula Ao‘s These Hills Called Home, written by Ahana Bhattacharjee, and published in The Antonym:
Follow The Antonym’s Facebook page and Instagram account for more content and exciting updates.
