TEAR OF A STAR

Your warmth,

a kerchief in the wind,

the kiss of rain and disenchant

A warming sun,

A Full Moon on,

A look of maidenhood without a guilt.

You used to fondle me

and comfort

with your hand just like a little quilt.

YOU

dandled me

and used to sing me bedtime stories.

My sweet mum,

YOU sweet tear of a STAR.

 *** 

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

SUN

 What a beautiful song he’s singing

with the bow on his rays

as a self-important

and self-sufficient

virtuoso

El Maximo...

and the suite with fire bubbles

make him seem like a god.

up there in the blue skies...

What a beautiful song you are singing, Sun!

*** 

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM 

IN STEPS OF A PHOENIX

Promises taken by the wind,

With rains of sunshine and disenchant;

You all forgot that all you said,

You heated sun from all the dreams...

...which burnt the whole of Paradise !

In circles you walked me in skies,

And now with my pale eye I look up

With empty voices chewing

Promises taken by the wind...

...and born from such a vapid thought !

I looked into Jack Ketch’s eyes the day before,

He sat with his sword among the holes,

Just sniffing for the proper time

For me to feel his edge in vein...

...and so my story to go down !

A so sweet thrill embraced me,

And smothered me, and then it heated me again;

A phoenix smiled at me so blank,

And singing from his fire of longing...

...my story for such... light sleep!

*** 

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

ANDROGYNOUS

I sniff the crucifixion

of the soul

in mirrors

dry

of people

hugs, of long lost loves

with beams

of lights

which cry

after some Sisyphus

from the Chronos’

pendulum.

A lint of darkness

In an existential safe deposit...

***   

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

Metamorphosis

The leaves fall through my footsteps

from stellar vaults

and I shudder

for how many times again?

and I feel...

the grafted neck

with tears

dew

rains

and fire...

Branches reborn from ribs

the modest sprouts

in sap – a living water

sprinkling my face

the leaves

the words

and my footsteps.

***  

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

Living Light

Living light of pure blue,

My hope of beam of an azure,

I ask you crown me with raw green

To leave behind the black and suffering!

You, Living Light from a blue song,

In curly wave call me from a wind,

Some mauve you shall put me on the head, no cloud

For me to leave behind the tear which flowed so slow!

I shall rip the salt of a warm bread,

Shall sprinkle it on a white slice,

Which looks alike the ancient love

Remained today unparalleled;

With my mind’s eyes in a hot day

Shall I melt the ice looking for words,

Sipping the stream of the green valley

In strings of wind that teach me

A new tierce of a C major

Forgotten in a symphony in A minor...

You, Living Light, you remained in time

My crown on forehead of Olymp!

***  

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

The Princess Maiden

I bend over in front of you, sweet Mother,

Longing for your kiss;

I went too far away perhaps

And now I’d like to stay at your chest.

To feel your dear warmth,

To listen to the stories about princes

And play with your necklace.

Alas! Much I miss for my parents!

I miss the hot sun

Which crowned in summer day,

A book of teachings

I used to turn over

Until the evening came…

Years passed so many more,

I’m now as cold as the glacier,

And lost I am among the mountains

With a white face, as white as the lime;

I lay some meaningless words

While hoping of the charmed instant

When I shall get out of my state of coma,

Again become the Princess Maiden,

And lay the plains of infinity

On a horizon so much loved!

***   

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM

PHOEBE

Today I want to write the story of my life,

an amalgam of fairy-tales

colourful

so titanesque in deeds

as Heracles.

The stories rolled onto by Apollo

sitting in the shadow of a pine,

among the bows

sheltered under mantles,

and then punched

with coat of arms of rhymes.

I do not want to brag any of my victories,

I’m not a Prometheus,

(for Gods are guarding),

under sleeping travelling notes.

Today I want to be myself

like Nefertiti!

...

...and now I’m writing the story of my life

with Phoebe...

***   

Written by Băţmîndru Lucia

Translated by Romulus Florian ADAM