the lost – il perso – cel pierdut

valeriu dg barbu

trilingual post, translations by me

Image

on the cheeks of grandma’s it rests cheeks of the mother
on the cheeks of the mother it rests …No, I no longer exist
naturalness is torn invisibly, a bad hand comes out of the earth
I aspired too up
.
the distant really means another matter, blowing in my ear a desert ,
the distant is ,,a near,, in implosion of a self absorbed… evil
when the letters , , m, , with ,, e , , do not recognize themselves, they bite, they refuse
.
as if I had been born from himself, from one whim of the May
in the night in which all women have become vineyard in the lost paradise of perspective
to return …
.
transparent grapes ripen under the eyelid grandmother
her face smells by god
deep wrinkles as a secret mystery, hides in vain a map
.

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