Sky of hands
Motto: ‘I dream the Earth more and more’
Sun, what hands spin you around,
What breath, what mind
That you stay so clean?
In the world, flow hot
Springs of blood,
Murder in them
Washes its feet.
Not love – fear spins the Earth
I want to shout
God, I want to shout.
So little is Earth today!
The Second keeps it
In a bag
A shopping bag.
With your friend,
Almighty Sun
With your brother:
Watermelon… Sweet watermelon.
We have
To do something
Now.
A sky of hands
A sky of manly hands
We need to rise around Sun
Why are you silent, Sun?
Say something.
Silence is not golden.
It’s bloody.
Crucified Nightingale
No one can transport
Earth into Heavens.
Perhaps only the Nightingale
Only her song perhaps.
But her tongue was severed
Nobody hears her anymore,
No one can hear her sing
On the church cross:
‘Awake, God,
Lest Man be victor!’
The sky fallen from your eyes
The sky fallen from your eyes
And has crumbled.
The Sun fallen off your face
And has frozen.
Petrified is the cool wind
Missing your deft hands.
Looking for you
The springs have hidden in dusts.
Like a fallen tree
The tongue itself,
Is hearing its seemingly fall.
God, so lonely
So lonely
I have never before been!
From now
From now, I could
Live legless even,
Yes, without them – the legs!
Whomever I wanted to reach
I reached.
And eyeless,
Yes, without them – the eyes,
I could live.
Whomever I wanted to see
I saw.
And armless
I could live,
Yes, without them – the arms!
Whomever I wanted to embrace
I embraced.
Alone even, my darling, from now
Like blood stain on gravestones,
Like a star falling in void,
Like a vulture on mountains,
Yes, alone
I could live.
This is us…
This is us:
Appropriately good
In the midst of evil.
Evil… never!
Night is astonished at
Itself brooding
Darkness
But hatching
Broods of light.
The Poet by Grigore Vieru
to Alghimantas Baltakis
All across the desert
There was only one well.
It seems strange, but
The blind discovered it.
‘What a marvellous window!’
Said he, remembering the saying
Of the wise elders: ‘If
The truth is in the well,
I jump in it.’
Indeed, he was travelling
With his clothes all wet.
There were countless versts
Down to the water in the well,
And all those thirsty
Kept their burnt lips stuck
To the blind’s clothes.
Library of Dew
Brother,
I’ve seen rich countries
Where I would have stayed
As poor.
Brother,
There’s a full world of bridges
You must cross,
Shaking hands with the Devil.
Brother,
I can die anytime
But not anywhere.
I can only die
With my face reflected into
‘that genius of grass
which is Dew’.
I have torn this Rose
I utter words,
To take in air.
I fall asleep,
To know no more.
I slice bread,
To make Mother happy.
Listen to the Blackbird,
To lie not.
I watch the linden tree,
To forget not.
I have torn
This Rose. Why?