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Constantin Severin Poem
- a solo nijuin renku -
English version by Liviu Martinescu
entrance to an underground
crowds in winter's clouds
and an atomic clock to boot
the first snowflakes on
the punching bag in the yard
the jazz poem
the town is creeping into
the golden scale
enormous through teardrops
the whitewashed houses
symphonic white
out of scores of thunderbolts
some leaves on the moon
"and thus she sleeps awake
long after she's got up"
the motorcycle
that's carrying them entwined
is curbing the hour
raceless race-course
the loneliness of no-horses
the streets sweat out
in the glove of speed
no time for tomorow
seven doves go clink
against the rosetta of the cathedral
the pollen at night
migrates into saints' bodies
as well as violins
the lark's feathers
made iridescent by the moonshine
circling the deserted
merry-go-rounds the glider
a whirl of silences
only balmy tree-branches
breeze here not whispers
each body
leaks out its own time
two abysses
dark rails
pulsating under streetcars
yellow saxophone
toward the super-yellow sky
it's me in there in the sound
the concert eroticized
new swallow nests
the raw soil blooming
among cherrytrees
beyond the wall
in the shadow of the piano
the spring bread
Copyright © Constantin Severin | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Constantin Severin Poem
English version by Liviu Martinescu
- a solo nijuin renku -
waves covered in wind
in our blood the salt of the sea
is seeking the shore
autumn clouds scattered
by viola d'amore
insatiably drinking in
the image of those conches
lurking amongst barren poplars
devious ways in
a square black against white
stuck between word and shadow
time
a salamander
I would twirl your red hair
in yellow rings
through rolls of thick fog
to meet the axolotl
bearing the face of my beloved
afloat away from our own selves
among unknown engravers
in the foreign harbour
anemones
sink the eternal sky
in the long forgotten bell
crickets have taken shelter
melting wax
covers the books
of metamorphosis
smoky chrysalides
rise from among vowels
the shape of the larva
slowly yields the contour
of your absence
my palm feels the vortex
of your frozen name
a scream snowed under
albatrosses with myrtle in their beaks
shattering the moon
how changed the last
water dwellings
a cluster of birches
from one being into another
music will pass
it's only the sound of time
that entices grass to germinate
amongst plum blossoms
the hourglass sends up its sand
up/down to the last grain
deep into lilac woods
fire devouring fire
Copyright © Constantin Severin | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Constantin Severin Poem
the flame of the lighter
amplifies the fluttering
in our lips
English version by Liviu Martinescu
Copyright © Constantin Severin | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Constantin Severin Poem
- a solo nijuin renku -
English version by Liviu Martinescu
the first butterfly
erupting crater
or sap at work in the grove
a mountain sprig on fire
two irises in bloom
the flames of those feathers
illuminate the cup
of our last tea
the book as well as the candle
transgress reality
winter moon
a spark of burning ice
over things from the past
from the depths of the mirror
render me this person to the snow
in your absence
moths swirl round
my eyesight
the spurt of o symphony
advancing in a mass of wax
sacred scarabaeous
that can only survive
by devouring itself
how the passage of thoughts
through the lamp bulb can hurt
two suns for one town
in a subterranean star
space is no more
how the rainbow soaks up
the light of angels
giving the wheel a spin
I could see against the spikes
her dreamlike face
the silence of the falling leaf
on sizziling shoulders
sun-flooded gate
the moon bouncing off
every blessed chestnut
when autumn comes the form takes off
to the world of my other self
the blind musician
warming his hands
the red tulips
I will only be able to play
during that hour the clock utterly lacks
home again
the wild rose
curls round the guitar
May wind dilating the fire
after the light had its chance
Copyright © Constantin Severin | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Constantin Severin Poem
(fragment)
English version by Liviu Martinescu
50.
oddly the leaves seem to count us
in their fall
houses shaped as a shrill sound
nobody lives in nobody
often the poor hear the nought in objects
blind people's hands do not signify
in litheness of pure
bars stroking one word
that thought-lives us
imitating the wistfulness of
unborn gods
we sink too soon
in the sleep-iron landscape
our fingers deafened
by the cranial blade of computers
surrounded by liquid helium solitude
and pounded heart
in the vacuum mouth of objects
we can only be saved by the word
the word that grinds its own shape
with the intensity of a star
breathing its own catastrophe
the word through which the violet
ribs of children can be seen
sequential workers
their complexion as dark as statistics
the gauze bandages of goods
hiding rotting canals
we live in approximation
our eyes shredded
by speed
nonplussed we fail no notice
that our dogs return from hunting
bearing sumerian tablets on their collars
who are you coming out of the net of time
to touch our civilization
with a myrtle sprig
ay sleep hauls cities
on paltry claws
their music a breeze from the future
yet cybernetic bells snow down
on blue deafness
Copyright © Constantin Severin | Year Posted 2011
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