Dan Bruda
ROMANIA
Far-Eastern motif

If I were anywhere
in the boundlessness of Asia, 
tortured as I am that 
I can confess to nobody
a secret that devours my peace
and distresses my every second, 
I’d abruptly climb the ridge
of the nearest mountain,
I’d look for a tree in a
remote corner of the wood
and I’d cut in its flesh a
deep hollow  where I’d
slowly and leisurely utter
my sinful secret.
Then I’d take a handful of
clay and I’d press it in
that hollow so that my
secret remains there,
uttered but known to nobody,
until, one spring,
it’ll burst out
with the leaves of a branch.
 


Archeology

Each of these fragments have a
totally different significance. 
Even if we reconstitute 
objects, figures, bodies,
anyway we miss something.
The essential, I believe.
Their world always keeps its secret.
As each of these fragments
had once a  life and gave hopes.
But now they look at us meekly and coldly.
They’re aware that we can at most restore
their perfection or brilliance.
But never their previous life.

Time never wants to give up its prey.
 


Hordes of shadows

The fumes coming out of the asphalt
after the rains’ storm
that went on for hours
quietly float as a virgin’s body
dancing in the evening’s scorching heat.
I stay at the window next to a
cup of absynth
and ask myself what might master Baudelaire
have felt that very moment?
Would he have been distressed 
by the noise of a plane
that wearily goes to
its run way?
I’m tortured only by the night fall.
As, alone, I know no more
how to fight those
hordes of shadows that
just in a few moments
will start their march to
directions still unknown to me.
For a moment I feel tempted
to join them.
But, alas, our steps do not
coincide at all.
 


Summer wanderings

I’ve still not succeeded to tell you
that my nights are shorter
and shorter. The outside silence
keeps refusing me.
I sometimes absent-mindedly watch
TV movies. But I avoid
seeing their end. It frightens me
as if I were personally obliged
to take it upon myself.
Some other times I try to leaf through
a book wishing that the leaves’ rustling
brings back to me
the happiness and hope that
I long for.
But I realize that I don’t find
my bearings in the words written
by someone else,
that I can’t but mime
their feelings.
Then I listen to the outside
uproar
or perhaps from within myself.
Long shadows slip by the walls,
And I fancy that, in each of them.
it’s myself wandering while
waiting for the sleep.

 

Copyright, Dan Bruda.
All rights reserved by author.