vlad scutelnicu poems
TRANSCRIPT
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Polar reality
A new day dawns
My brain brim with white owls
Goes through the mirror within the icebergOf wonderAs I eat an apple four seasons
Invade me-love fills a dream with dreams
sliversbreakfrom the cross
I swing carefully along this polar
RealityIn a way that sorrow and triumph
Get along in a perfect movement
Time
Like a shadow of mineAccompanies my body
Shedding shameslessly his snake garment against my being
His thousand scales awfully tatter my garbkilling my ephemeral golden butterflies
the world
a boat seething with paradoxeslaughs carelessly
at the flowers that sigh and weepunder the dark sign of my steps
Alas, my passionate desireto decipher the sense of life, to follow
the footsteps of the Mage
I know I tore you out, sweet lily,
But, please, dont cry
As tomorrow your daughtersWill be feeding on me!
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ce pot iubi
a vrea s pot spune:pe mine m iubesc oglinda i arpele
oraul acesta de zi i de noapteoraul acesta copleit de diluviude maini ce transport claxonndorgolii i drameoraul acesta manta peste suflete
ca o panglic neagr pe ochi
i eu trecnd
? ce pot oare iubi
un clugr se plimb stingherprin sngele meu
cnd noaptea bate cu deget rupt
n ferestre stinse
a vrea s-mi cunosc drumul ca vulturulcrrile iepureluidar nu nu, sntca un fluture plonjnd aventurosn viaa lumnriin cutarea de sine
ce pot eu iubi
zilnic voi aduna flori de pe mormintesub privirile curioase i nelegtoare alereptilelor miciflori de aezat seara n faa oglinziicnd voi asculta - intrus - printre mtisunetul alb al candelei
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What Can I Love
I wish I could say:
The mirror loves me and so does the snake
This city of daylight, city of night
Swarming with hooting carsCarrying prides and personal dramas
This city a mantle over the souls
A black ribbon over the eyes
And I forever crossingWhat can I love?
A monk roams aimless
Through my bloodAs the night knocks with a fractured fingerat fading windows
I wish I knew my path like the vultureKnows the ways of the hare
Instead I am nothing but a butterfly plunging recklessslyInto the life of a candle
Seeking himself
Yet, I can love
Day after day I will pick up flowers from tombs
Followed by the curious and understanding glances of
Small reptilesFlowers that I ought to arrange before the mirror every evening
While listening like an intruder to the white noise of the candleRising from beyond disguises
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***
peste lume cad fulgere de
plictis
stau pe un turn de estoase ijudec aceast voronskaya o judec( neoriginal nici aici nu pot fi eu)ca pe snii unei femeiun pahar prea puin treisunt deja prea multe
prin ceaa aceasta bolborosescpatimi
prin ceaa aceasta curge seara aceastai eu vreau s plec, s plecvd erpiincolcind timpul dilatatn nedumeririle melei-ncerc s fugdin gnd ca o ironie rsar
erifi scldndu-se n butoaiele distileriilordin Tennessee i de pe Mississippiapoi scot pistoalele s mpartdreptatea cntnd
ceaa din frigul acestei serim trezete
de cte ori ntorc spatele iluzieiun nebun ucide un nger
! e frige frig n ora i sunt singurdoar cu mine! ct mulumire c suntemDoi
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***
clouds of boredom throw lightnings
all over this world
This is me, on top of a tower
Made of turtleJudging this bottle of voronskaya
(what a clich I am not myself anymore)
I judge this vodka as if the breasts of a woman One glass calls for another
Three glasses is more than I can handle (aici am inteles diferit textul probabil din cauza lipseivirgulei)
This mist is seething with passions
This mist is the riverbed through which this night flowsI want to go away, I want to go away
Time moves slothfully in my (land of) confusions
And snakes entrap it.I try to run away
But, ironically, Marshalls bathing in casks from TennesseeAnd from other well known distilleries down the Mississippi
Spring from my thoughts
They administer justice with their pistols raisedAnd songs on their lips
The mist of this freezing evening
Arouses my senses
Every time I turn my back on illusionA fool kills an angel
Its freezing!
Its freezing in this town and I am alone
With my self.Its more cosy this way,
Just the two of us!
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etic definitiv
de un timp nu mai scriu nimic
ateptatept i iubescinima lacrimei poposite n palm
l vd tot mai des pe Hitchcock trecndstrada numai pe rou
m scald ntr-un fel de ateptare ciudatde pnd
euforia i teama alternnd orinpdindu-m neanunatei i ce?toi oamenii din oraul acestase tem de cevacolonii de vise sparg oasele somnului
atept
atept s-mi treac prin cap o idee
prin patim i carne un gndmi spl ochii i gura cu busuiocapoi ca un glontetrec strada pe rou rznd
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ultimate ethics
it's quite a while since a haven't written a wordI do nothing but to wait and love
the kernel of the tear I shelter in my hand
I see Hitchcock
crossing the street on redas if I were on the watch
a strained waiting surrounds my being
extasy and fear besiege me one at a timewithout warning
so what?
since all the people in this town
are haunted by a certain fearand colonies of dreams trample the bones of slumber
I wait
for an idea to strike me
for a thought to enliven passion and flesh within meI cleanse my eyes and my mouth with basil
and all of a sudden I spring like a bulletinto the street
on red, laughing.
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bobul de rouun clopot diurn mi grbete
paii
! ct de puin e clipa
zilnic prin oraul acesta elasticsparg lacte la pori ineditezilnic pe drumul meu niciodat
pe crarea altuiapot s vd fericit
bobul de rou
n genunchi n faa Saca la picioarele lui Iisuslas s m ptrund briliantulefemers-mi curg prin vene, negrbitaducnd soarele s m inunde
fii i tu la fel? nu ndrzneti? i-e team de ce ai putea gsiacolo...
un clopot nocturn sunnd prelung, generoscheam clipa s o dilateiar eu m bucurm bucur ca un copil c exist
bobul de rou
! ct de plin e clipa
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pearl of dew
a daylight bell urges me to walk
faster
behold how scant every moment is!
not a day passes without me shattering locks
that seal outlandish gates
I never stray on someone else's pathI watch the pearl of dew
I bow before Itlike before Christ
I open myself for its
Transient resplendenceTo run idle through my veins
And I wait for the sunrays to invade me.
Open yourself like I do
Whats the matter: dont you dare oryoure just afraid of what you might find
In yourself?
The powerful lasting chime of a midnight bell
Expands the instantSo I, a mere child, treasure
The pearl of dew
Look just how perfect every moment is!
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s tragi linie
pleci dimineaa devreme boit cu
transpiraia cearceafurilor depusn riduripleci evadezi ntr-o lumede ploi de strigte de sub streainibizari ngeriscuip ml i snge spreumbrele noastre mai grele catrupulte lovete-n auz reproul
amantei mai dur dectal soiei
ii plou n vene dar paii rmn ciopliica amprentele pe bulevardul vedetelorficatul ii iese ipnd prin vrful degetelor
peste zi mai cade un fulger
cailor li s-au scos ochii din tlpi
amiaza te prinde lipit de aceeaifemeiecare dozndu-i poria de caloriinctuat-n buctria brfei a uitatce-i sexul
v mirosii tcerile: a ei ar trebui s aib aromde pasre nchis-n stnca ta curge netiut sprelacrim
nu mai vrei s prinzi seararenuni definitiv la greieri i-i vines tragi linie s ntrebi
? c tot am locuitViaade ce ne-ar fi team s invadm
Moartea
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Drawing the line
All messed up, you leave early in the morningyour wrinkles imbued with the moist
Of the sheetsYou run away, your shelter is a world where
Screams tickle off the roofs drenching you
Eerie angelscoughing ooze and blood on our
heavy, burdening shadowsit is your mistress reproof the one echoing harder
in your ears
the rain sneaks into your veins, your paces engraved
give birth to a new Walk of Fameyour liver shrieks desperately at the windows of your finger tips
not a day without a thunderbolt
the hooves of the horses go blindthe noon finds you addicted to the same
woman
she doesnt waste vainly her calorieshaving sex, she forgot this concept
instead she gorges herself on gossip galore
still you sniff each others silence
hers ought to taste like a bird cliffed inyours stealthily sheds into
tears
you yearn no more to seize the night
you abandon all hope and the crickets too
you feel like drawing the line:
since we lived our liveswhy fearing to invade Death?
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sfat pentru ieirea din balans
? incepi ziua ca de obicei la ora cinci
cu cafeaua i igara alturi ziaruli gndurile npdindu-te alene( speri s fie senin s fie soare s te n-conjuri de zmbete i de amici
s ai o zi plin nus dormi la slujb pentru c
parlamentarii notri nu suport concurena)
? ori i ncepi
ziua ca o ieire din visdureroas i goal i grea ca
naterea unui omca o clip ce danseaz energic pelimba de foc a unui cuit...
nici clownii nu fac pe nimeni s rd
suprema trf te-a lepdatn crma lumii nu s bei
licoarea nemuririi din plosca vremiici s nvei despre
trecerea ta pe Pmnt ca oscurt vizit n casa unui prieten
priveti speriat cum ziua st hien i
ateapt s-i mute din iriio zi obinuit linear i burduit
cu griji identice zilelor trecute sau carevor venifrunze tot mai galbenesub un vnt nehotrt
ai de pltit telefonul gazele ntreinereai rata la main ctre firma de leasing
dar timpul
timpul s tii
ct din gndul aruncat n cntecul psriieste despre cerul n care aceasta
i-a motenit zborul
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este departe tot mai departe
tu alearg s-i srui dragostea
pe frunte pe buze pe ochi pe nervipe mini pe indiferen
iamintindu-i de iganca de taincare i-a umplut braele cu crinincearc
s peti n zi ca-ntr-un vis de viscum n fiecare primvar ngerii
se strecoar n arbori
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The key to reach the equillibriumDo you start your day at five oclock in the morning
with coffee and a newspaper at hand, nothing unusual,and Trivial thoughts move in sluggishly infesting you?
(you hope it is going to be a blue, bright day
you hope youll hide among friends and smilesyou hope youll have a full, contemptuos day
and thus you wont sleep at your desk -our parliament members do not stand competition)
or dare you say thatyour average day is as painful and stark
as pacing out of a dreamas fatefull as the birth of a human being
as full of energy as a moment
dancing and bending perilously on the sharp fiery edge of a knife?
The clowns are hilarious no more
The ultimate whore forced you out from within her womb
On the floor of the Worlds boozer, still your fate is not to drinkthe potion of immortality from Time's canteen
but to learn your life is a brief visit payed to friend
you see the common day on the prowl , strained and starring like a hyena,
waiting restlessly to have a bite of your irisesa day of trivial events, linear, full of
the same old concerns mentto reappear
like leaves growing paler
under an uneasy, reluctant windthe phone, gas and support taxes
the car rate, all these barge in,it's high time
you found outhow the essence of the thought you dedicated to the song of the bird
draws back to the cradle in the skywhere the little thing was bestowed with the art of flight
your beloved is far awayrun and kiss her forehead, her lips, her eyes, her nerves
her hands, her indifferenceand
soothed by the thought of the gipsy girl
who adorned you with a handful of liliestry
to enter the day as within a fairy dream
just like the angels sneak up in the treesevery spring.
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scrisoare ctre
cumprtorul de vnturi
pe
cel Trector peste apele Styxului
- prieten drag ori ilustru necunoscut s nu-l vizitezi la mormnts-l ai aezat n casa inimii taleLui s-i aprinzi zilnic o candel
cum
pentru tine ai aprinde-ocum pentru tine ai deschide
contul cu viaa ( sau cu moartea )Cumprtorule de vnturi
Una / pe zi / una / pe noaptes te inunde lumina ei
mai de folos dect iubirea
doar aa te va vedeademiurgul
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Letter to the Wind Purchaser
You shall pay no visit to the tomb of the one
Who crossed the Styx river,
Be him friend or famous anonymous,You shall keep him
In the cradle of your heartEach day you shall light a candle in his memory
As if you lit it for yourself, oh, wind purchaserAs if this way you tried to earn Life (or perhaps Death)
One candleIn the daylight
And one
For the night
Its light shall make you shine worthier
Than the love of a visitor
This way God
Will surely spot you.
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sfat de nger
tu posezi handicapul de a iubiea are atuul de-a nu te nelege
? ce tain pori n sufletcnd sufletul i-e tainea arunc zilnic cu pietre ntr-un ru domoltu le culegi n toate nopile pentru
a cptui vise
ea iubita repet operaiaiar i iariar i iariar
i iariar ecoul gndului c nu te aude
te nfac de prmpingndu-te trndu-tentr-o pia de vechituri undecontrabanditi ai sufletelor arunc
pe tarab destine n deriv pentruun pot de doi poli
privind spre voi nedumerit
dintr-o geometrie perfect iese cltinndu-sengerul
bate din aripi uor sonor i-i optete: ! spui acest adevr cu nufrulinimii talecea
care arunc piatra nu tie s iubeasc...
fericirea la felcu abisul are chip de fecioarneprihnit
cnd inima minte trage-i un glonte n east i d-
i voie celui ce ateapt n spatele tus-l srute
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Advice of an angel
Your tragic flaw is the art of loving
Her vantage point the art of not understanding you
What arcanum is that you harbour in your soul?
When the soul itself is soaked with the arcaneShe casts stones in a sluggish
River
You pick them up every night -Sheer coat of mail for your dreams
She keeps casting stones
Again and
Again and
AgainYour mind screams: shes not hearing you!The echo grabs you by the hair
It nudges you, it drags you
Into a market full of things gone obsoleteWhere smugglers bargain away souls
On their booths they display lost destiniesAs cheap as two napoleons
I look at you rather disturbedFrom within a perfectly balanced reality
An angels comes out, staggeringHe moves his wings with a rustling sound and whispers:
The water-lily floating on your crystal-clear heart voices the truth
On your behalf:The one casting stones
Is stone at heart.
Happiness just like
The abyss wears the visageOf an unravished virgin
When your own heart proves deceitful
Fire a bullet through your head
And let the one standing behind youEmbrace it.
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poem de spus unei cruci
i faci cruce n barbdoar doar o da domnul s ai o cruce n barb
s te absolve de toate relele
i bunele pe care le-ai fcut sau ai de gnds le faci
fluiernd cntnd vrsnd lacrimi ori druind
flori
bnd votci ori njurnd
n cel mai curat mod posibil al treceriitale nesimite pe suprafaa cuminte a acestui pmnt
i faci cel mai adesea cruce n barb folosind limba
ca pe un marker s lai un semnaa cum cinii pe trunchiurile copacilor care gzduiesc
pelerinajul lorcruce i faci apoi urci aa
cum fiecare urc n tramvai cu bilet sau cu abonament
anapodapentru o staie ori mai multe pentru o zi ori pentru
o viade seara pn dimineaa
pentru toate literele i cifrele de pe biletdus-ntors, dus-ntors
pentru toate biletele care nctueaz litera spentru toate biletele care elibereaz litera v
nu-i nici o vrajitoare n preajmi nici pe o raz de zecedouzeci km
n jur deci nu ai nici un motiv spre a deschidecarantin de gradul unu
i totui
urci n tramvai
nu la capt de linie nici la mijloc undeva petraseu urci pur i simplu urci
aa cum deschizi
ua apartamentului unei noi zile
corbii s-au lipit de crestele blocurilor
de coamele caselor de coroanele arborilor de-oparte i de alta a liniilor paralele i
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privesc n linite !oh !ce rai
tu mzgleti cuvinte pe foi de hrtie ori n gnd fr s-i pesede ceva
orice peni de aur se poate toci ori crete la loc
dup cum orice peni de aur poate deveni o simplpeni de tuci
tu urci n tramvai
mpreun cu oamenii acetia care au
un drum de fcut? tu urci n mainria aceasta complicat
!vai doamne ce drum vai doamne ce peni frneaz tramvaiul
!vai doamne ce drum vai doamne ce peni mic tramvaiul
tu urci n tramvai i-i faci o cruce n barb
spre toate bacoanele unde vezi rufele familiei la uscatspre toate balcoanele goale de unde au fost strnserufele familiei
i mpreun cu tine
toi oamenii acetia ar dori s-i faco cruce o simpl cruce
dar nu
nu i-o fac se abin nu i-o fac se abin
ei merg cu tramvaiul frumos colorat ei merg mult-puinei stau cte doi-trei pe un scaun unul n altul
n tramvaiul acesta frumos colorat n care s-au urcatdin care nimeni nu le spune
cnd s coboare
ca dintr-o cas de rugciune
tu priveti n oglinda vatmanului i vezi cum acesta joaczaruri fumeaz
igri de foi groase i joac zaruri
are o mn plin cu zaruri care cad mereu n ceade bucurie
el vatmanul mai d pe gt o duc devotk apoi aprinde nc o igar de foi cubanez
deasupra a toate acestea ngeri speriai coboar nori de
fum de tmie peste pedala de frn
i tramvaiul aleargplin arhiplin supraplin superplin
alearg tu scrii un bilet de atenie cu penia ta
de tuci ( sau de aur) ctre vatmanul cu igar de foi cubanezntre dini i sticla de votk pe bord
scrii un bilet de atenie ctre vatmanmaestre vreau i eu o gur de votk
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? dar un trabuc nu mai ai eu i-am pltit integral biletulnu tu eti cel care-mi asigur tot comfortul
? de ce te grbeti ateapt la prima desclecare am s-i artce pot vine rspunsul scris pe sticla de votk din care
ca o floare rsare trabucul cubanez
dar ce mai conteaz
toat lumea aceasta nghesuit
doi cte doi pe un scaun chiar i cte trei
zboar pe ine fr grij de sinedai la toi brbai i femei s trag fumul n piept
fumul de igar cubanez ntr-un sfnt protocoldai la toi s soarb din dumnezeiescul alcool
ngerii zbiar sparg oglinzi din care cad erpi
i nimeni nimeni
nimeninu aude i nu vede nimic
peste toi i n toate tramvaiul acesta anemic amic-inamic
de la gar la staia electric spre coala unsprezecei mai departe prin tot oraul ntr-un ritm infernal
negrbit dar grbit imperfect de perfectlunecnd peste ine prin ceaa ca o istorie a acestei zile
pentru doi pentru trei pentru zece o sut o mie
de oamenitramvaiul acesta supus de vatmanul zeul sticlei
brusc se oprete cntec de fiare scap din inevatmanul cu sticla de votk n mn arat
n stnga biserica
: !a voastr e ? nu asta ai dorit
n mijlocul zilei tramvaiul opreteadnc fioros din biel-manivel el ip
toi cltorii coboar i ngenunche la fel cu vatmanul
i-n starea proaspt ivit de calm i de pacese-aud degetele strnse buchet duse la frunte la piept
cum murmur cruci i ofteaz credin
i toi nal o cruce universal
de sus din piscul cerului din lun i stele ori
din soarele venicpn ht! jos departe spre miezul pmntului
toi
cltorii la semnul vatmanului se-nchin
i fac cruci largi neasemuit de frumoase de sfinteun minut o or o zi o...
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dar gatavatmanul cu sticla de votk n mna dreapt
ridicat n slvi ca un chiot de victoried comanda
magia scoate pistolul din teac
iat-i se reped urcizbindu-se unii n alii clcndu-se
n picioare njurnd mpingndu-se druindu-ipalme pentru un loc
! iat-i
toi i-au uitat crucile afar
peste tine tu nu ai cobort, i-ai druit crucea
stnd n tramvai
se arunc o femeie de vreo suttreizecidekile cu geanta
n umrul stng i turtetefaa de geams vezi mai bine biserica
iar tun timp ce tramvaiul gfie din greu ncercnd s plece spre
o alt staie spre o alt biseric ipndtu
cobori
i-i mai facinc
ocruce plngnd
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The Poem as a Prayer
Your tongue stumbles into a prayer
The Lord might have endowed you with the seed of a prayerTo deliver you from all the good things, from all the bad things
You did or you planned to do
Whistling, singing aloud, shedding tears
or gifting away flowers,drinking vodka or swearing
in the most tender way possible
while passing unnoticed on the quiet surface of this earth
when your tongue stumbles into a prayeryou use it to leave your mark
just as dogs mark the trees that witness their pilgrimage
you make the sign of the cross then you get on the tramlike everybody else
bearing a ticket or a passyou take the tram bound for the next stop
or for another one further away
you tram your way a whole dayor perhaps your whole life
from dusk till dawn
you travel - always a round trip
for the sake of all the letters on a ticketfor the sake of all tickets entrapping the lettersfor the sake of all tickets releasing the letterv
there is no witch around
not within ten or even twenty kilometersso you have no reason of declaring a level one quarantine
yet you get on the tram not at the end of the line,
not at half way, but somewhere on the route
you step in the tram as easily as when you open the door of your apartment
to hail a new day
the ravens cling to the ridges of blocksthey cling to the manes of house, they stay perched on tree tops
on both sides of those parallel linesin silence I watch, oh, what a patch of heaven
you scribble down words, you scribble on sheets of paperor in your head, your mind at ease,
all golden pens may worn outas well as every golden pen may turn into a pen of mere copper
you get on the tram along with these people
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embarked on a particular journeyyou get on this intricate machine
Oh lord what a route
oh lord what a pen arrests this tram!
Oh lord what a pen makes this tram move!You get on the tram and each time you see balconies
Where laundry dries upEach time you see lifeless balconies where the laundry
Has already been gathered
Your tongue stumbles into a prayerAnd all these people would want
Their tongues to stumble into a prayer too
Yet they refrain, yes they refrain
They travel with this colored tram
They travel long distances, they travel short distancesBy twos, by threes they share a seatThey jostle into each other in this colored tram
No one tells them when to leave this place,
this shrine-like place
You look in the tram drivers mirrorAnd see him rolling dice and smoking cigars,
He has a hand full of dice
concealed by the haze in the cabinhappy as he is the tram driver freshens the nip
then he lights up another Cuban cigarwhile angels hover above, they conjure up a veil of incense fume
that wraps around the breaking pedal
so the crammed, busy, overcrowded tram stampedes along the lines
with your copper pen(with your golden pen)you write a warning note to the tram driver
a Cuban cigar between his lips, a bottle of vodka on the board
you write a warning note to the tram driver
maestro, would you give me a taste of that vodka?what about that Cuban cigar? I am the only one who paid for the ticket
are you not the one responsible for my well-being?
whats with all that rush? Just wait till they dismountand Ill show you what Im made of
the answer lies written on the bottle of vodkathat yields no other flower than the Cuban cigar
Never mind
all these people crammed here
two on a seat, three on a seat,
they sweep down the linesmen and women along
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you make them all inhale the smoke from the Cuban cigaras the sacred protocol demands
men and women alongyou give them all a sip of that heavenly booze
angels shriek, they break mirrors from which snakes fall
and no one, absolutely no one
no one sees or hears anythingand this unnerved tram, this friendly tram
this hostile tram watches over everything and everyone
from the station to the electric powerplant and further to School Elevenand yet further along throughout the town
it glides fiendishlycalm but hasty, imperfectly perfect
it glides down the lines and through the fog
witness of todays making
for two, for three, for a hundred, for a thousand peopleout of a sudden this tram harnessed by the driver God of the Bottle stops with screech of fetters
the tram driver, a bottle of vodka in his hand, points to the left
showing the church:isnt this the one you people belong to? Isnt this what you where looking for?
In broad daylight the tram stops,
its crank gear howling,and he yells at everyone
all travelers get off and bow down, so does the driverand in the newly born state of stillness and peace
one can hear their fingers whispering prayers and sighing with faith
as they fold together and descend from forehead to chest
and they all offer a universal prayer
their breaths blowing it from the heights of the sky,
from the moon and stars, from the ever burning sunto a faraway place, to the heart of the earth
at the drivers command they all bow down and pray
wide gestures melt in an all too beautiful and sacred sign of the cross
a minute, an hour, a day, a..enough of this!
the tram driver, bearing the bottle of vodka in his right hand,worshiping it,
releases the sound of victory and gives the order -
magic revealing itself in its utter nudity-behold them stampeding, stumbling into each other,
swearing, pushing along, gifting away smacks
all this for a seat
-
7/31/2019 Vlad Scutelnicu Poems
27/27
behold themthey have all forgotten the sign of the cross
a three-hundred-pound woman, a bag on her left shoulder,tumbles upon you
you did not get off the tram, you stayed
you gave your cross away she presses your face against the window
she offers you a better view of the church
and while the tram pants heavily
trying to hit the roadbound for another stop, for another church
you step down and you make yet another sign of the crossweeping