LAST PSALM

By Constantin AcosmeiTranslated by Gene Tanta

Beard of BeesChicago

Number 33June, 2006

ContentsPreface iii

THE END 1

COMEDY 2

A MANS STORY 3

MALE DICAT 4

ARS AMANDI 5

TAEDIUM VITAE 6

THE LAST PSALM 7

BURIAL 8

i

ARS AMANDI previously appeared in Columbia Poetry Review andMALE DICAT previously appeared in Circumference Magazine.

ii

PrefaceI lived in Iasi, Romania in 2001 for six months visiting the Romanian poet

Mirela Ramona Ciupag (now my wife). During this time I met Constantin Acosmeithrough an underground Moldovan literary group entitled Club 8. Struck by Mr.Acosmeis desperate, lucid, and darkly generous verse, I took up the martial actof translation. I feel gratified to see this act of cultural and linguistic violenceconsidered publishable.

iii

THE END

(I uncover and lift myself from the mattressI stretch and grab the socket and seizethe light-bulb with one end of the scarfaround my neck and I turn it and I make it go out)

SFIRSIT(ma dezvelesc si ma ridic de pe salteama ntind si apuc dulia si cuprindbecul cu un capat al fularului dela gt si l nvrt si l sting)

1

COMEDY(I climbed and straddled the window sillswinging my bare footabove the streetwith my left hand I held a dead rabbitby the ears and thenI hit the breaks)

COMEDIE(ma suisem calare pe fereastrami leganam piciorul descultdeasupra straziicu mna stnga tineam deurechi un iepure mort si atunciam pus frna)

2

A MANS STORYOne evening I was walking hurriedly on the sidewalk, following my pouted coun-tenance in the store windows decorated with stockings and underwear. As I go toturn the corner with some speed, I was jarred by a hard collision. Before me lay awoman splayed on the asphalt face up. Her lips were murmuring a long curse. Iwatched how her right leg floundered a piece of plaster had crumbled off anduncovered a patch of yellow ankle, swelled. I gathered up her crutches from theground and helped her to her feet. As my palms were brushing her thighs of plas-ter debris, I felt inside a pocket of her dress some ordinary biscuits, and my jawsclenched with relish.

RELATAREA UNUI B ARBATIntr-o seara mergeam repede pe trotuar, urmarindu-mi chipul bosumflat n vitrinelempodobite cu ciorapi si chiloti. Cnd am dat coltul n viteza, m-a zdruncinat oizbitura puternica. In fata mea zacea o femeie trntita pe asfalt cu fata n sus.Buzele ei murmurau o lunga njuratura. Priveam cum i se zvrcoleste picioruldrept o bucata de ghips se sfarmase si dezvelea un petic de glezna galbena,obrintita. I-am cules crjele de pe jos si am ajutat-o sa se ridice n picioare. Intimp ce palmele mele i stergeau coapsele de moloz, am simtit n buzunarul de larochie ctiva biscuiti obisnuiti, si atunci mi s-au nclestat falcile de pofta.

3

MALE DICAT(every night beforeshutting off the light I go into the kitchenwith the thought of turning on the gasbut instead I run the taptake a glass rinse it drinkand I shudder in disgust I thinkthere in the broad ocean,on a large strip of skyno bird has ever flown)

MALE DICAT(n fiecare noapte nainte de astinge lumina intru n bucatariecu gndul sa dau drumul la gazpna la urma dau drumul la apaiau un pahar l clatesc apoi beausi ma clatin de sila ma gndescacolo n largul oceanuluipe o mare fsie de cer nu azburat niciodata o pasare)

4

ARS AMANDI(I closed my jaw by handand I stuck the tip of my tongue one at a timein all of the holes in my molarsthen you stretched out your hand and startedto jumble my hair and theneverything around was covered by dandruff)

ARS AMANDI(mi-am nchis falcile cu mnasi mi-am vrt pe rnd vrful limbiin toate sparturile din maseleatunci ai ntins mna si ai nceputsa mi nclcesti parul apoitotul n jur s-a acoperit de matreata)

5

TAEDIUM VITAE

(Im blind with sleep and Im watching the sunI can just bet you I wont diethis yearI woke up with the light onI unlocked the door I went out into the courtyardI didnt feel like washing my faceIll wait for it to get darkA long life is stalking me an entangled intestine whichmy entire body cannot stop-up I remember how a headless hen will flyin the grass)

TAEDIUM VITAE

(snt chior de somn si ma uit la soarepot sa pariez ca nu voi murianul acestam-am trezit cu becul aprinsam descuiat usa am iesit n ogradan-am avut chef sa ma spal pe ochiastept sa se ntuneceo viata lunga ma pndeste un intestin nclcit pe care trupulmeu ntreg nu poate sa-l nfunde mi amintesc cum zboara prin iarbao gaina fara cap)

6

THE LAST PSALM( why should I still be sad?with my cough I could sweep the whole streetso death could take off her shoes at the end of itand come this way with her shoes in her handbashfully looking downexactly why should I still be sad?god has made himself a couple of testamentsand he is still at itsmiting those poorest of his relativesand I say with them this crazy old man whostuffs and stuffs his file cabinets with testamentswill inherit us all)

ULTIMUL PSALM( de ce sa mai fiu trist?cu tusea mea as matura o strada ntreagasa se descalte moartea la capatul eisa vina ncoace cu pantofii n mnaprivind sfioasa numai n joschiar asa de ce sa mai fiu trist?dumnezeu si-a facut cteva testamentepna acum si tot o mai duce leface n ciuda rudelor sarace de totzic si eu mpreuna cu ele mosneagul asta smintit careumple sertarele cu testamenteare sa ne mosteneasca pe toti)

7

BURIAL

One day someone was found dead in his room. On the table lay a piece of paper onwhich he had written his last wish. A few hours later his wish was fulfilled. A mandug with a spade a deep hole near the fence, in which he threw the stripped body.Above it he built an outhouse out of boards, covered it with a rusted tin-plate.

INMORMINTAREIntr-o zi a fost gasit mort n camera lui. Pe masa era o hrtie pe care si scriseseultima dorinta. Cteva ore mai trziu aceasta a fost ndeplinita. Un om a sapat cuhrletul lnga gard o groapa adnca, n care a aruncat trupul despuiat. Deasupra eia construit un veceu din scnduri, acoperit cu o coala de tabla ruginita.

8

CONSTANTIN ACOSMEI was born in Tirgu Neamt, Romania. He holds a BA anda Masters degree in Literature and French from The University of Letters in Iasi,Romania. Mr. Acosmei lives and works as a librarian in Iasi (northeast Romania).

Born in Timisoara, Romania in 1974, GENE TANTA immigrated to Chicago in1984 with family. He earned his MFA in Poetry from the Iowas Writers Work-shop in 2000. He also translates contemporary Romanian poetry and makes visualart with found materials. Mr. Tantas Publications include: Epoch, Ploughshares,Circumference Magazine, Exquisite Corpse, Watchword, Columbia Poetry Re-view, and two collaborative poems with Reginald Shepherd in Indiana Review.Currently, he is a Ph.D. student in Creative Writing (Poetry) at the University ofWisconsin at Milwaukee where he is also the Art Editor for Cream City Review.

Beard of Bees books are produced on GNU/Linux systems, using only Free Software.Copyright c 2006 Beard of Bees Press

Chicago, ILwww.beardofbees.com