SIMONA GRAZIA DIMA

Dragostea se dezvaluia lent

Dragostea se dezvaluia lent. Intre timp,
cineva a trait. Chiar mai multi. Etaj de etaj,
in orice firida, mijeau chipuri: se turnau copii,
fundatii de cladiri, se ascundea aur sub dale.
Tu erai forta alba a asteptarii, conul de lumina
deschis. Dragostea se dezvaluia lent: aceasta
cuprindere n vaz, transportul tuturor, pliati,
in arca translucida. Se foloseau de tine, linistiti,
sa i treci. Un Charon al lumii acesteia.
Traiau in draci. Se osteneau cu viata. Din trup
li se ridica fum. Isi dadeau pruncii la ore de chitara,
de acordeon. Pupau maini, sa treaca examene.
La proba, croitorul le acoperea cu stofe
soldul in ardere. Te asurzeau cu manele,
cu zgomot de picamer. Casele trebuiau ridicate.
Si tu i treceai cu barca transparenta, numai in somn,
in virtutea unui drept de libera trecere –
pentru care nu ei platisera.

Florentina Yvonne Penciu

Simona Grazia Dima
 

Love Slowly Released Itself

Love slowly released itself. Meanwhile,
somebody lived. Even more people. On each floor,
in each niche, faces loomed: copies were molded,
foundation buildings, gold hided behind slabs.
You were the white force of waiting, the open
cone of light. Love slowly released itself: this
insight, everybody’s transfer, folded,
in the translucent ark. They would calmly count on you
to bring them to shore. A Charon of this world.
They would live their lives full. They would fight the burden of life. Smoke
would rise up from their bodies. They would send their kids to guitar lessons,
accordion lessons. They would tickle others, to pass exams.
When trying on clothes, the tailor would cover their burning hips
with fabric. They would deafen our heads with musical nonsense,
with noise of the concrete breaker. Houses needed to be built.
Whereas you would transparently boat transfer them, just in dream,
in virtue of a right of free pass –
for which they had not paid.