IOANA IERONIM

Today


is it a swarm of butterflies is it
an animal with fur and claws
that stirs deep inside
and sends
its soft waves across the day

is it a stone that has rolled
down the mountain
with the memory of primordial fire
within its every cell
and stopped mute and vibrant
under my foot
in mid-day

what is it that calls
with cause and origins forgotten,
where is it –
the river the mirror that sends me
pictures from your land
torn off their stems

what is this
that can find me in the day’s jumble and rush,

what language does it have for me in my sleep
when I had lost it
while awake?

*

I’ve raised my drawbridges
and yet you steal in,
arches open and you
soundless weightless
come and go at ease

in order to hear and see you
I’ve borrowed sight and hearing
from eagles and owls and bats
from deep ocean fish
and creatures underground

here’s the sound of your boots in mid-day,
your soft feet at night,
your gloved hands
climbing up ivy-covered stones
and your bare hands pushing windows open
somewhere in my wall.

Stay invisible bleach, get lost
for a while
while I’m trying to learn
how to breathe again
walk again
tidy the sound of my voice
tame the light in my eyes

*

just read
tread in my footsteps
the ones of yesterday
of a minute ago,
the ones spinning in pirouettes
the ones in the sunken grass
where bodies rolled
in a song

us as fluid
as fugitive elusive unstoppable
as the Heraclitean wave
around a jug
with the dark void at its core

*

like sleepy bears in a cave
stirring in their hibernation

like children laughing in a river
like ourselves
shining the softest light in the dark
while snows would snow us in
while snow would melt
with a warmth within

*

we have been passing one another
with lights growing shyly
in caves below, not unlike
the cisterns in Istanbul

where Medusa’s head stays
vanquished twice
but not quite

and supports a world
from its watery depths

*

How shall I fashion myself for you today
in what depth of the closet:
my grandmother’s Sunday veil
a gold coin on a velvet ribbon that she gave me
in remembrance of how they used to make themselves
beautiful once
or just the first T-shirt I encounter, twisted
or - better still - the day’s "woman clothed with the sun"
or the woman clothed with the moon,
the woman dressed in every hour of the day,
in every disposition,
a temperate rebel - or intemperate, why not
21st-century techno-chic, yeah, neat and proud
or fin-de-siècle (the other siècle of course),
or still and forever and ever Rock, or
“I swear to tell the truth” terrific look! as they come
and then dolce dolente faithfully yours, no heavier than
moon light, as heavy as mother earth,
more dense than the heaviest dark:
the absolute darkness
just before daybreak
burning sky-high with that hunger

for in all we are.

How can I translate myself in an image
while there is no name
for any of it,
no message for the eye?

Alina Olimpia Gaci Miron

Ioana Ieronim
 

Astazi

Oare-i un roi de albine oare-i
un animal cu blana si gheare
care se misca adanc inauntru
si-si trimite
linele sunete peste zi

oare-i o piatra ce s-a rostogolit
in jos pe munte
cu amintirea focului primordial
chiar in celula sa
si s-a oprit tacuta si vibrant
sub talpa mea
in miezul zilei

oare cine cheama
cu originile si cauzele uitate,
unde e-
raul oglinda care-mi trimite
poze din tara ta
cu trunchiurile lor rupte

ce-i aceasta
care ma poate gasi in zapaceala si graba din zi,

ce limba are pentru mine pe cand dorm
cand mi-o pierdusem
pe cand eram treaz?

*

Mi-am ridicat podurile basculante
si totusi te furisezi,
arcadele se deschid sit u
fara sunet si imponderabil
vii si pleci nestingherit

ca sa te aud si sa te vad
am imprumutat vazul si auzul
de la vulturi, bufnite si lilieci
de la pesti din adancurile oceanului
si de la creaturile subterane

iata sunetul cizmelor tale in miezul zilei,
pasii tai lini in noapte,
mainile-ti inmanusate
urcandu-se pe pietre acoperite de iedera
si mainile-ti goale deschizand ferestre
undeva in peretele meu.

Ramai precum decolorantul invizibil, rataceste
pentru o vreme
cat incerc sa invat
din nou sa respire
sa merg
sa-mi clarific sunetul vocii
sa-mi imblanzesc lumina din ochi

*

citeste numai
paseste pe urmele mele
cele de ieri
de acum un minut,
cele ce se-nvart in piruete

cele din iarba cufundata
unde corpurile se rostogoleau
intr-un cantec

noi precum un lichid
la fel de efemeri evazivi si de neoprit
precum valul heraclitean
in jurul unui cant de privighetoare
cu golul intunecat in esenta sa

*

precum ursi som
norosi intr-o pestera
agitandu-se in hibernarea lor

precum copii ce rad intr-un rau
ca noi insine
revarsand cea mai dulce lumina-n intuneric
in timp ce neaua ne-ar inzapezi
in timp ce neaua s-ar topi
cu o caldura launtrica

*

am trecut unul pe langa altul
cu luminile sfioase crescand
in pesteri subterane, precum
cisternele din Istanbul

unde capul Meduzei ramane
infrant de doua ori
-dar nu pe de-a-ntregul

si sustine o lume
din adancurile sale acvatice.

*

Cum sa ma-mbrac azi pentru tine
In ce adancuri ale garderobei:
valul de duminica al bunicii
moneda aurie pe o panglica de catifea pe care mi-a daruit-o
in amintires momentelor in care ele
se infrumusetau odat’
sau doar primul tricou peste care am dat, rasucit
sau-si mai bine-“femeia-mbracata in soare” a vremurilor
sau femeia-mbracata-n luna,
femeia imbracata in fiecare clipa din zi,
in fiecare dispozitie,
rebela moderata-sau de neastamparat, de ce nu
modelul tehno-sic al secolului 21, da, ingrijita si mandra
sau modelul sfarsit de veac(celalalt veac bineinteles),
sau chiar pentru eternitate Rock, sau
look-ul teribil “Jur sa spun adevarul” dupa cum vin
si apoi dolce dolente al dumneavoastra, nu mai greu decat
lumina lunii, greu precum batrana glie,
mai dens decat cel mai apasator intuneric:
intunericul absolut
chiar inaintea zorilor
arzand in inaltul cerului cu acea foame

deoarece toti in toate suntem.

Cum ma pot transforma intr-o imagine
cat timp nu i-a fost dat
un nume,
nici macar un mesaj pentru ochi?