the lost – il perso – cel pierdut

valeriu dg barbu

trilingual post, translations by me


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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