Bucharest at five –
my new shoes
are at the door.
Bucharest, five and a half
seagulls liberated from weight
sun bashfully undressing
Bucharest, replete and beautiful
shamelessly colorful, with scented concrete
Bucharest, seven and a half
the last leis before the first flight tonight
and I pour Irish from the bag too:
we should invent an honorable withdrawal
Bucharest, late afternoon
escorts me with a storm –
last night I was sitting at a terrace
and watched the seagulls
lighting up the sky:
white stripes freed of meaning
now I have more Irish than water
and not a fucking dime
we should invent a proud retreat
Bucharest late afternoon
strolls me through Eliade’s labyrinths
too much literature in one day
I slowly withdraw
I leave the scene with a gentle bow –
yet another city I will return to
Bucharest in dusk
Bucharest in June
Bucharest in deep necklines
Bucharest with small firm breasts
Bucharest with salmons chased by white seagulls
22.06.2009, 19:35
Bucharest
Translated by the author, edited by Elizabeta Bakovska