SIMONA GRAZIA DIMA

Armura de foc

De foc ne temeam, in foc ne am pierdut neputinta.
Mereu atenti – ne intrebam la ce: la flacara,
la nava incendiara (dar ne sfiam sa spunem),
la flama care ne putea rapi oricand,
de orisiunde. Cu potirul in maini, stiam
ca putea s apara un phoenix, sa i sarim in spinare.
Arsi, sa fim cavalerii invincibili. Dintru nceput,
nu exista armura. Ca din ceata i apar vinele,
cum se schiteaza aripa de inger in fata rugatorului.
Si abia dupa incendiu incepe dogoarea amiezii,
arderea dupa ardere. Parjolul vesel, arsura fericita,
hohotul flacarii. Pe vechiul vulcan, copiii afla
anemone albastre. Strigand, ei calca pe copca
sub care clipesc, glumete, dar treze, vapaile.

Florentina Yvonne Penciu

Simona Grazia Dima
 

Fire armor

Of fire we were scared, in fire we lost our helplessness.
Always watchful – we wondered watchful to what: to the flame,
to the incendiary nave (but we scrupled to tell),
to the flame that could kidnap us at any time,
from anywhere. Holding the chalice in one hand, I knew
that a phoenix could come up, to jump on its back.
Burned, to be the invincible knights. First,
there was no armor. As from the mist its striations root,
as the angel wing outlines in front of the beseeching.
And only after the fire the glow of noon shows up,
burning after burning. The joyful conflagration, the happy burn,
the roar of the flame. On the old volcano, children find
blue anemones. Yelling, they step on hole
behind which the jolly, but living blazes twinkle.