vlad scutelnicu poems

7/31/2019 Vlad Scutelnicu Poems

1/27


2/27

Polar reality

A new day dawns

My brain brim with white owls

Goes through the mirror within the icebergOf wonderAs I eat an apple four seasons

Invade me-love fills a dream with dreams

sliversbreakfrom the cross

I swing carefully along this polar

RealityIn a way that sorrow and triumph

Get along in a perfect movement

Time

Like a shadow of mineAccompanies my body

Shedding shameslessly his snake garment against my being

His thousand scales awfully tatter my garbkilling my ephemeral golden butterflies

the world

a boat seething with paradoxeslaughs carelessly

at the flowers that sigh and weepunder the dark sign of my steps

Alas, my passionate desireto decipher the sense of life, to follow

the footsteps of the Mage

I know I tore you out, sweet lily,

But, please, dont cry

As tomorrow your daughtersWill be feeding on me!


3/27

ce pot iubi

a vrea s pot spune:pe mine m iubesc oglinda i arpele

oraul acesta de zi i de noapteoraul acesta copleit de diluviude maini ce transport claxonndorgolii i drameoraul acesta manta peste suflete

ca o panglic neagr pe ochi

i eu trecnd

? ce pot oare iubi

un clugr se plimb stingherprin sngele meu

cnd noaptea bate cu deget rupt

n ferestre stinse

a vrea s-mi cunosc drumul ca vulturulcrrile iepureluidar nu nu, sntca un fluture plonjnd aventurosn viaa lumnriin cutarea de sine

ce pot eu iubi

zilnic voi aduna flori de pe mormintesub privirile curioase i nelegtoare alereptilelor miciflori de aezat seara n faa oglinziicnd voi asculta - intrus - printre mtisunetul alb al candelei


4/27

What Can I Love

I wish I could say:

The mirror loves me and so does the snake

This city of daylight, city of night

Swarming with hooting carsCarrying prides and personal dramas

This city a mantle over the souls

A black ribbon over the eyes

And I forever crossingWhat can I love?

A monk roams aimless

Through my bloodAs the night knocks with a fractured fingerat fading windows

I wish I knew my path like the vultureKnows the ways of the hare

Instead I am nothing but a butterfly plunging recklessslyInto the life of a candle

Seeking himself

Yet, I can love

Day after day I will pick up flowers from tombs

Followed by the curious and understanding glances of

Small reptilesFlowers that I ought to arrange before the mirror every evening

While listening like an intruder to the white noise of the candleRising from beyond disguises


5/27

***

peste lume cad fulgere de

plictis

stau pe un turn de estoase ijudec aceast voronskaya o judec( neoriginal nici aici nu pot fi eu)ca pe snii unei femeiun pahar prea puin treisunt deja prea multe

prin ceaa aceasta bolborosescpatimi

prin ceaa aceasta curge seara aceastai eu vreau s plec, s plecvd erpiincolcind timpul dilatatn nedumeririle melei-ncerc s fugdin gnd ca o ironie rsar

erifi scldndu-se n butoaiele distileriilordin Tennessee i de pe Mississippiapoi scot pistoalele s mpartdreptatea cntnd

ceaa din frigul acestei serim trezete

de cte ori ntorc spatele iluzieiun nebun ucide un nger

! e frige frig n ora i sunt singurdoar cu mine! ct mulumire c suntemDoi


6/27

***

clouds of boredom throw lightnings

all over this world

This is me, on top of a tower

Made of turtleJudging this bottle of voronskaya

(what a clich I am not myself anymore)

I judge this vodka as if the breasts of a woman One glass calls for another

Three glasses is more than I can handle (aici am inteles diferit textul probabil din cauza lipseivirgulei)

This mist is seething with passions

This mist is the riverbed through which this night flowsI want to go away, I want to go away

Time moves slothfully in my (land of) confusions

And snakes entrap it.I try to run away

But, ironically, Marshalls bathing in casks from TennesseeAnd from other well known distilleries down the Mississippi

Spring from my thoughts

They administer justice with their pistols raisedAnd songs on their lips

The mist of this freezing evening

Arouses my senses

Every time I turn my back on illusionA fool kills an angel

Its freezing!

Its freezing in this town and I am alone

With my self.Its more cosy this way,

Just the two of us!


7/27

etic definitiv

de un timp nu mai scriu nimic

ateptatept i iubescinima lacrimei poposite n palm

l vd tot mai des pe Hitchcock trecndstrada numai pe rou

m scald ntr-un fel de ateptare ciudatde pnd

euforia i teama alternnd orinpdindu-m neanunatei i ce?toi oamenii din oraul acestase tem de cevacolonii de vise sparg oasele somnului

atept

atept s-mi treac prin cap o idee

prin patim i carne un gndmi spl ochii i gura cu busuiocapoi ca un glontetrec strada pe rou rznd


8/27

ultimate ethics

it's quite a while since a haven't written a wordI do nothing but to wait and love

the kernel of the tear I shelter in my hand

I see Hitchcock

crossing the street on redas if I were on the watch

a strained waiting surrounds my being

extasy and fear besiege me one at a timewithout warning

so what?

since all the people in this town

are haunted by a certain fearand colonies of dreams trample the bones of slumber

I wait

for an idea to strike me

for a thought to enliven passion and flesh within meI cleanse my eyes and my mouth with basil

and all of a sudden I spring like a bulletinto the street

on red, laughing.


9/27

bobul de rouun clopot diurn mi grbete

paii

! ct de puin e clipa

zilnic prin oraul acesta elasticsparg lacte la pori ineditezilnic pe drumul meu niciodat

pe crarea altuiapot s vd fericit

bobul de rou

n genunchi n faa Saca la picioarele lui Iisuslas s m ptrund briliantulefemers-mi curg prin vene, negrbitaducnd soarele s m inunde

fii i tu la fel? nu ndrzneti? i-e team de ce ai putea gsiacolo...

un clopot nocturn sunnd prelung, generoscheam clipa s o dilateiar eu m bucurm bucur ca un copil c exist

bobul de rou

! ct de plin e clipa


10/27

pearl of dew

a daylight bell urges me to walk

faster

behold how scant every moment is!

not a day passes without me shattering locks

that seal outlandish gates

I never stray on someone else's pathI watch the pearl of dew

I bow before Itlike before Christ

I open myself for its

Transient resplendenceTo run idle through my veins

And I wait for the sunrays to invade me.

Open yourself like I do

Whats the matter: dont you dare oryoure just afraid of what you might find

In yourself?

The powerful lasting chime of a midnight bell

Expands the instantSo I, a mere child, treasure

The pearl of dew

Look just how perfect every moment is!


11/27

s tragi linie

pleci dimineaa devreme boit cu

transpiraia cearceafurilor depusn riduripleci evadezi ntr-o lumede ploi de strigte de sub streainibizari ngeriscuip ml i snge spreumbrele noastre mai grele catrupulte lovete-n auz reproul

amantei mai dur dectal soiei

ii plou n vene dar paii rmn ciopliica amprentele pe bulevardul vedetelorficatul ii iese ipnd prin vrful degetelor

peste zi mai cade un fulger

cailor li s-au scos ochii din tlpi

amiaza te prinde lipit de aceeaifemeiecare dozndu-i poria de caloriinctuat-n buctria brfei a uitatce-i sexul

v mirosii tcerile: a ei ar trebui s aib aromde pasre nchis-n stnca ta curge netiut sprelacrim

nu mai vrei s prinzi seararenuni definitiv la greieri i-i vines tragi linie s ntrebi

? c tot am locuitViaade ce ne-ar fi team s invadm

Moartea


12/27

Drawing the line

All messed up, you leave early in the morningyour wrinkles imbued with the moist

Of the sheetsYou run away, your shelter is a world where

Screams tickle off the roofs drenching you

Eerie angelscoughing ooze and blood on our

heavy, burdening shadowsit is your mistress reproof the one echoing harder

in your ears

the rain sneaks into your veins, your paces engraved

give birth to a new Walk of Fameyour liver shrieks desperately at the windows of your finger tips

not a day without a thunderbolt

the hooves of the horses go blindthe noon finds you addicted to the same

woman

she doesnt waste vainly her calorieshaving sex, she forgot this concept

instead she gorges herself on gossip galore

still you sniff each others silence

hers ought to taste like a bird cliffed inyours stealthily sheds into

tears

you yearn no more to seize the night

you abandon all hope and the crickets too

you feel like drawing the line:

since we lived our liveswhy fearing to invade Death?


13/27

sfat pentru ieirea din balans

? incepi ziua ca de obicei la ora cinci

cu cafeaua i igara alturi ziaruli gndurile npdindu-te alene( speri s fie senin s fie soare s te n-conjuri de zmbete i de amici

s ai o zi plin nus dormi la slujb pentru c

parlamentarii notri nu suport concurena)

? ori i ncepi

ziua ca o ieire din visdureroas i goal i grea ca

naterea unui omca o clip ce danseaz energic pelimba de foc a unui cuit...

nici clownii nu fac pe nimeni s rd

suprema trf te-a lepdatn crma lumii nu s bei

licoarea nemuririi din plosca vremiici s nvei despre

trecerea ta pe Pmnt ca oscurt vizit n casa unui prieten

priveti speriat cum ziua st hien i

ateapt s-i mute din iriio zi obinuit linear i burduit

cu griji identice zilelor trecute sau carevor venifrunze tot mai galbenesub un vnt nehotrt

ai de pltit telefonul gazele ntreinereai rata la main ctre firma de leasing

dar timpul

timpul s tii

ct din gndul aruncat n cntecul psriieste despre cerul n care aceasta

i-a motenit zborul


14/27

este departe tot mai departe

tu alearg s-i srui dragostea

pe frunte pe buze pe ochi pe nervipe mini pe indiferen

iamintindu-i de iganca de taincare i-a umplut braele cu crinincearc

s peti n zi ca-ntr-un vis de viscum n fiecare primvar ngerii

se strecoar n arbori


15/27

The key to reach the equillibriumDo you start your day at five oclock in the morning

with coffee and a newspaper at hand, nothing unusual,and Trivial thoughts move in sluggishly infesting you?

(you hope it is going to be a blue, bright day

you hope youll hide among friends and smilesyou hope youll have a full, contemptuos day

and thus you wont sleep at your desk -our parliament members do not stand competition)

or dare you say thatyour average day is as painful and stark

as pacing out of a dreamas fatefull as the birth of a human being

as full of energy as a moment

dancing and bending perilously on the sharp fiery edge of a knife?

The clowns are hilarious no more

The ultimate whore forced you out from within her womb

On the floor of the Worlds boozer, still your fate is not to drinkthe potion of immortality from Time's canteen

but to learn your life is a brief visit payed to friend

you see the common day on the prowl , strained and starring like a hyena,

waiting restlessly to have a bite of your irisesa day of trivial events, linear, full of

the same old concerns mentto reappear

like leaves growing paler

under an uneasy, reluctant windthe phone, gas and support taxes

the car rate, all these barge in,it's high time

you found outhow the essence of the thought you dedicated to the song of the bird

draws back to the cradle in the skywhere the little thing was bestowed with the art of flight

your beloved is far awayrun and kiss her forehead, her lips, her eyes, her nerves

her hands, her indifferenceand

soothed by the thought of the gipsy girl

who adorned you with a handful of liliestry

to enter the day as within a fairy dream

just like the angels sneak up in the treesevery spring.


16/27

scrisoare ctre

cumprtorul de vnturi

pe

cel Trector peste apele Styxului

- prieten drag ori ilustru necunoscut s nu-l vizitezi la mormnts-l ai aezat n casa inimii taleLui s-i aprinzi zilnic o candel

cum

pentru tine ai aprinde-ocum pentru tine ai deschide

contul cu viaa ( sau cu moartea )Cumprtorule de vnturi

Una / pe zi / una / pe noaptes te inunde lumina ei

mai de folos dect iubirea

doar aa te va vedeademiurgul


17/27

Letter to the Wind Purchaser

You shall pay no visit to the tomb of the one

Who crossed the Styx river,

Be him friend or famous anonymous,You shall keep him

In the cradle of your heartEach day you shall light a candle in his memory

As if you lit it for yourself, oh, wind purchaserAs if this way you tried to earn Life (or perhaps Death)

One candleIn the daylight

And one

For the night

Its light shall make you shine worthier

Than the love of a visitor

This way God

Will surely spot you.


18/27

sfat de nger

tu posezi handicapul de a iubiea are atuul de-a nu te nelege

? ce tain pori n sufletcnd sufletul i-e tainea arunc zilnic cu pietre ntr-un ru domoltu le culegi n toate nopile pentru

a cptui vise

ea iubita repet operaiaiar i iariar i iariar

i iariar ecoul gndului c nu te aude

te nfac de prmpingndu-te trndu-tentr-o pia de vechituri undecontrabanditi ai sufletelor arunc

pe tarab destine n deriv pentruun pot de doi poli

privind spre voi nedumerit

dintr-o geometrie perfect iese cltinndu-sengerul

bate din aripi uor sonor i-i optete: ! spui acest adevr cu nufrulinimii talecea

care arunc piatra nu tie s iubeasc...

fericirea la felcu abisul are chip de fecioarneprihnit

cnd inima minte trage-i un glonte n east i d-

i voie celui ce ateapt n spatele tus-l srute


19/27

Advice of an angel

Your tragic flaw is the art of loving

Her vantage point the art of not understanding you

What arcanum is that you harbour in your soul?

When the soul itself is soaked with the arcaneShe casts stones in a sluggish

River

You pick them up every night -Sheer coat of mail for your dreams

She keeps casting stones

Again and

Again and

AgainYour mind screams: shes not hearing you!The echo grabs you by the hair

It nudges you, it drags you

Into a market full of things gone obsoleteWhere smugglers bargain away souls

On their booths they display lost destiniesAs cheap as two napoleons

I look at you rather disturbedFrom within a perfectly balanced reality

An angels comes out, staggeringHe moves his wings with a rustling sound and whispers:

The water-lily floating on your crystal-clear heart voices the truth

On your behalf:The one casting stones

Is stone at heart.

Happiness just like

The abyss wears the visageOf an unravished virgin

When your own heart proves deceitful

Fire a bullet through your head

And let the one standing behind youEmbrace it.


20/27

poem de spus unei cruci

i faci cruce n barbdoar doar o da domnul s ai o cruce n barb

s te absolve de toate relele

i bunele pe care le-ai fcut sau ai de gnds le faci

fluiernd cntnd vrsnd lacrimi ori druind

flori

bnd votci ori njurnd

n cel mai curat mod posibil al treceriitale nesimite pe suprafaa cuminte a acestui pmnt

i faci cel mai adesea cruce n barb folosind limba

ca pe un marker s lai un semnaa cum cinii pe trunchiurile copacilor care gzduiesc

pelerinajul lorcruce i faci apoi urci aa

cum fiecare urc n tramvai cu bilet sau cu abonament

anapodapentru o staie ori mai multe pentru o zi ori pentru

o viade seara pn dimineaa

pentru toate literele i cifrele de pe biletdus-ntors, dus-ntors

pentru toate biletele care nctueaz litera spentru toate biletele care elibereaz litera v

nu-i nici o vrajitoare n preajmi nici pe o raz de zecedouzeci km

n jur deci nu ai nici un motiv spre a deschidecarantin de gradul unu

i totui

urci n tramvai

nu la capt de linie nici la mijloc undeva petraseu urci pur i simplu urci

aa cum deschizi

ua apartamentului unei noi zile

corbii s-au lipit de crestele blocurilor

de coamele caselor de coroanele arborilor de-oparte i de alta a liniilor paralele i


21/27

privesc n linite !oh !ce rai

tu mzgleti cuvinte pe foi de hrtie ori n gnd fr s-i pesede ceva

orice peni de aur se poate toci ori crete la loc

dup cum orice peni de aur poate deveni o simplpeni de tuci

tu urci n tramvai

mpreun cu oamenii acetia care au

un drum de fcut? tu urci n mainria aceasta complicat

!vai doamne ce drum vai doamne ce peni frneaz tramvaiul

!vai doamne ce drum vai doamne ce peni mic tramvaiul

tu urci n tramvai i-i faci o cruce n barb

spre toate bacoanele unde vezi rufele familiei la uscatspre toate balcoanele goale de unde au fost strnserufele familiei

i mpreun cu tine

toi oamenii acetia ar dori s-i faco cruce o simpl cruce

dar nu

nu i-o fac se abin nu i-o fac se abin

ei merg cu tramvaiul frumos colorat ei merg mult-puinei stau cte doi-trei pe un scaun unul n altul

n tramvaiul acesta frumos colorat n care s-au urcatdin care nimeni nu le spune

cnd s coboare

ca dintr-o cas de rugciune

tu priveti n oglinda vatmanului i vezi cum acesta joaczaruri fumeaz

igri de foi groase i joac zaruri

are o mn plin cu zaruri care cad mereu n ceade bucurie

el vatmanul mai d pe gt o duc devotk apoi aprinde nc o igar de foi cubanez

deasupra a toate acestea ngeri speriai coboar nori de

fum de tmie peste pedala de frn

i tramvaiul aleargplin arhiplin supraplin superplin

alearg tu scrii un bilet de atenie cu penia ta

de tuci ( sau de aur) ctre vatmanul cu igar de foi cubanezntre dini i sticla de votk pe bord

scrii un bilet de atenie ctre vatmanmaestre vreau i eu o gur de votk


22/27

? dar un trabuc nu mai ai eu i-am pltit integral biletulnu tu eti cel care-mi asigur tot comfortul

? de ce te grbeti ateapt la prima desclecare am s-i artce pot vine rspunsul scris pe sticla de votk din care

ca o floare rsare trabucul cubanez

dar ce mai conteaz

toat lumea aceasta nghesuit

doi cte doi pe un scaun chiar i cte trei

zboar pe ine fr grij de sinedai la toi brbai i femei s trag fumul n piept

fumul de igar cubanez ntr-un sfnt protocoldai la toi s soarb din dumnezeiescul alcool

ngerii zbiar sparg oglinzi din care cad erpi

i nimeni nimeni

nimeninu aude i nu vede nimic

peste toi i n toate tramvaiul acesta anemic amic-inamic

de la gar la staia electric spre coala unsprezecei mai departe prin tot oraul ntr-un ritm infernal

negrbit dar grbit imperfect de perfectlunecnd peste ine prin ceaa ca o istorie a acestei zile

pentru doi pentru trei pentru zece o sut o mie

de oamenitramvaiul acesta supus de vatmanul zeul sticlei

brusc se oprete cntec de fiare scap din inevatmanul cu sticla de votk n mn arat

n stnga biserica

: !a voastr e ? nu asta ai dorit

n mijlocul zilei tramvaiul opreteadnc fioros din biel-manivel el ip

toi cltorii coboar i ngenunche la fel cu vatmanul

i-n starea proaspt ivit de calm i de pacese-aud degetele strnse buchet duse la frunte la piept

cum murmur cruci i ofteaz credin

i toi nal o cruce universal

de sus din piscul cerului din lun i stele ori

din soarele venicpn ht! jos departe spre miezul pmntului

toi

cltorii la semnul vatmanului se-nchin

i fac cruci largi neasemuit de frumoase de sfinteun minut o or o zi o...


23/27

dar gatavatmanul cu sticla de votk n mna dreapt

ridicat n slvi ca un chiot de victoried comanda

magia scoate pistolul din teac

iat-i se reped urcizbindu-se unii n alii clcndu-se

n picioare njurnd mpingndu-se druindu-ipalme pentru un loc

! iat-i

toi i-au uitat crucile afar

peste tine tu nu ai cobort, i-ai druit crucea

stnd n tramvai

se arunc o femeie de vreo suttreizecidekile cu geanta

n umrul stng i turtetefaa de geams vezi mai bine biserica

iar tun timp ce tramvaiul gfie din greu ncercnd s plece spre

o alt staie spre o alt biseric ipndtu

cobori

i-i mai facinc

ocruce plngnd


24/27

The Poem as a Prayer

Your tongue stumbles into a prayer

The Lord might have endowed you with the seed of a prayerTo deliver you from all the good things, from all the bad things

You did or you planned to do

Whistling, singing aloud, shedding tears

or gifting away flowers,drinking vodka or swearing

in the most tender way possible

while passing unnoticed on the quiet surface of this earth

when your tongue stumbles into a prayeryou use it to leave your mark

just as dogs mark the trees that witness their pilgrimage

you make the sign of the cross then you get on the tramlike everybody else

bearing a ticket or a passyou take the tram bound for the next stop

or for another one further away

you tram your way a whole dayor perhaps your whole life

from dusk till dawn

you travel - always a round trip

for the sake of all the letters on a ticketfor the sake of all tickets entrapping the lettersfor the sake of all tickets releasing the letterv

there is no witch around

not within ten or even twenty kilometersso you have no reason of declaring a level one quarantine

yet you get on the tram not at the end of the line,

not at half way, but somewhere on the route

you step in the tram as easily as when you open the door of your apartment

to hail a new day

the ravens cling to the ridges of blocksthey cling to the manes of house, they stay perched on tree tops

on both sides of those parallel linesin silence I watch, oh, what a patch of heaven

you scribble down words, you scribble on sheets of paperor in your head, your mind at ease,

all golden pens may worn outas well as every golden pen may turn into a pen of mere copper

you get on the tram along with these people


25/27

embarked on a particular journeyyou get on this intricate machine

Oh lord what a route

oh lord what a pen arrests this tram!

Oh lord what a pen makes this tram move!You get on the tram and each time you see balconies

Where laundry dries upEach time you see lifeless balconies where the laundry

Has already been gathered

Your tongue stumbles into a prayerAnd all these people would want

Their tongues to stumble into a prayer too

Yet they refrain, yes they refrain

They travel with this colored tram

They travel long distances, they travel short distancesBy twos, by threes they share a seatThey jostle into each other in this colored tram

No one tells them when to leave this place,

this shrine-like place

You look in the tram drivers mirrorAnd see him rolling dice and smoking cigars,

He has a hand full of dice

concealed by the haze in the cabinhappy as he is the tram driver freshens the nip

then he lights up another Cuban cigarwhile angels hover above, they conjure up a veil of incense fume

that wraps around the breaking pedal

so the crammed, busy, overcrowded tram stampedes along the lines

with your copper pen(with your golden pen)you write a warning note to the tram driver

a Cuban cigar between his lips, a bottle of vodka on the board

you write a warning note to the tram driver

maestro, would you give me a taste of that vodka?what about that Cuban cigar? I am the only one who paid for the ticket

are you not the one responsible for my well-being?

whats with all that rush? Just wait till they dismountand Ill show you what Im made of

the answer lies written on the bottle of vodkathat yields no other flower than the Cuban cigar

Never mind

all these people crammed here

two on a seat, three on a seat,

they sweep down the linesmen and women along


26/27

you make them all inhale the smoke from the Cuban cigaras the sacred protocol demands

men and women alongyou give them all a sip of that heavenly booze

angels shriek, they break mirrors from which snakes fall

and no one, absolutely no one

no one sees or hears anythingand this unnerved tram, this friendly tram

this hostile tram watches over everything and everyone

from the station to the electric powerplant and further to School Elevenand yet further along throughout the town

it glides fiendishlycalm but hasty, imperfectly perfect

it glides down the lines and through the fog

witness of todays making

for two, for three, for a hundred, for a thousand peopleout of a sudden this tram harnessed by the driver God of the Bottle stops with screech of fetters

the tram driver, a bottle of vodka in his hand, points to the left

showing the church:isnt this the one you people belong to? Isnt this what you where looking for?

In broad daylight the tram stops,

its crank gear howling,and he yells at everyone

all travelers get off and bow down, so does the driverand in the newly born state of stillness and peace

one can hear their fingers whispering prayers and sighing with faith

as they fold together and descend from forehead to chest

and they all offer a universal prayer

their breaths blowing it from the heights of the sky,

from the moon and stars, from the ever burning sunto a faraway place, to the heart of the earth

at the drivers command they all bow down and pray

wide gestures melt in an all too beautiful and sacred sign of the cross

a minute, an hour, a day, a..enough of this!

the tram driver, bearing the bottle of vodka in his right hand,worshiping it,

releases the sound of victory and gives the order -

magic revealing itself in its utter nudity-behold them stampeding, stumbling into each other,

swearing, pushing along, gifting away smacks

all this for a seat


27/27

behold themthey have all forgotten the sign of the cross

a three-hundred-pound woman, a bag on her left shoulder,tumbles upon you

you did not get off the tram, you stayed

you gave your cross away she presses your face against the window

she offers you a better view of the church

and while the tram pants heavily

trying to hit the roadbound for another stop, for another church

you step down and you make yet another sign of the crossweeping

vlad scutelnicu poems

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