The Night Is Darkest Before the Dawn

/, Blesok no. 69/The Night Is Darkest Before the Dawn

The Night Is Darkest Before the Dawn

Bucharest 5 ½
Dear Sun
Reclining On Verses
Sultriness Over Mountain Water
The Sense of One Night
TV Screen and Jim Beam to Mr. Koala, after Snežana Bukal"s story
How to Write a Poem
Gentle Poem

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

Translated by the author, edited by Elizabeta Bakovska

2018-08-21T17:22:56+00:00 December 21st, 2009|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 69|0 Comments