SUROGAT

[translation by Stella Davis & Mădălina Moţ of Surogat de impostură]

in a garden
I plant ash trees with broken wings
and I urge them to die in a stupid war
with the stereotypes of the night
while waiting for them to die I line up my words
in illiterate patrols within the clamour of ideas
which would kill themselves through me
their burning, which is not even cruel, sings at the other chords
with a cloth voice
with no trace of sense or inertia
if some poet reads me he should kill himself
now while he still has time, while he still has veins
the garden begins to consider itself a vice and a drummer
in the same time
I have felt dead for a long time now
and my traces stink like a rank carcass
even among roses or other flavoured metaphors
I’m a limestone angel
with concentric stripes
watching over the insulation of an onion devil
revolted and passive

#
published in EgoPHobia #32

translated within the cooperation project EgoPHobia – MTTLC; many thanks to Stella Davis & Mădălina Moţ for the translation, to Silvia Bratu for managing the project and to Prof. Lidia Vianu for making it possible