friend
let’s separate us from the yellow leaves
to fly with all our wettish insubstantial bitter-sweet life
until beyond the border of the blunt reclaimed feelings
we will raise above the fir forests
above the clear and cold mountain waters
above the still alive lights

friend
sometimes when it rains grazing over the blocks public markets shambles and people
the event takes the shape of a bleeding wound
then from nowhere suddenly goes down
a night with its quiet day near
and it seems that everything is good
and it seems that everything is so beautiful
then an iron teeth nostalgia bites harshly
from the fresh meat of the kids that we used to be
over the fences stretched in front of the sun
the dried skin of the old pray animals that we are

friend
we travel
look
with black flags on the shoulder
so cripple the very heroes
the shirt is already rended
the soul enough and kept on sight
of course explanations will be found for all these
trenches will always shelter with extremely astonishment
our bodies
pyre of savage roses
blossomed rutilant dewy and tender in their bellies


Translated by Marius Surleac