Winter Impressions    

At the wall licked clean by the snow's assiduous tongue
the soldier's tall boots stand sentry.
He himself has retreated into the Radio Building to get warm.
An unremarkable winter scene,
not in the least worthy of some modern Breughel's eye.
Nevertheless, here at the boundary between the necessary
and the useless, a cat has had her kittens
in one of the soldier's boots.
The small shapes, their new eyes still blind to winter,
to the absence around them,
turn small pink mouths
toward the hot belly of the present.
The skein of life unwinds. Spatters of milk
flicked from their white whiskers melt the ice
drop by drop.

 

Impresii de iarnă   

Līngă zidul lins de limba harnică a zăpezii
soldatul şi-a lăsat uriaşii pīslari de veghe.
El a intrat īn Radio să se īncălzească.
O scenă normală de iarnă
nedemnă de vreun Breugel modern.
Şi totuşi
la graniţa dintre necesar şi inutil
īn uriaşii pīslari a născut o pisică.
Micuţele forme cu ochi orbi la iarna din jur,
la absenţă,
īşi īndreaptă boturile roz
spre pīntecele fierbinte al prezentului.
Ghemul de viaţă, stropii de lapte
topesc gheaţa
puţin cīte puţin.

A Parrot Dreaming    

A bright yellow parrot screams
in a black cage.
With each scream, he strikes the bars
as he flies. And keeps flying,
strumming until the bars run red,
staining the sunset. The exhausted bird
can hardly breathe, dreaming
of freedom, an exercise of flight
glimpsed between the bars.
Even the grass shrieks
as his feathers, suddenly gray,
fall to earth. In the same way,
any featherless heart
heaped under snow
may, in the brief freedom
of a prayer, be resurrected
breath by breath.


 

Un papagal visează   

Un papagal galben ţipă
īntr-o colivie neagră.
Se izbeşte de gratii
şi zboară. Şi zboară.
Pīnă ce gratiile se īnroşesc.
O flacară din sīnge
plutind
īn īnserare.
Pasărea ostenită
abia mai răsuflă
visīnd libertatea,
un exerciţiu de zbor īntre gratii.
Pīnă şi iarbă ţipă
sub penele īncărunţite brusc.
Inima golaşă tot astfel
se pierde īn zapadă
şi īnvie in libertatea
unei rugăciuni.

Small Fires in the Dusk    

Is it the whisper of wild strawberry leaves
that baptizes the earth with sweet-scented light?
I bow over the moon's contour, white on the page,
this eggless nest woven of words.

The hollow paw-print of a fox in the soft green moss—
a transitory, wild impression,
like their living absence, the departed
brushing my ankle.


 

Mici văpăi īn asfinţit   

Ce foşnet al rugului cu fragi
botează pămīntul cu o īnmiresmată lumină?
M-aplec peste conturul lunii albind pe pagină,
cuibul cu cuvinte.

Urma vulpii īn muşchiul īncă verde
e o scurtă, sălbatică apăsare
asemeni atingerii de suflet
a dragilor plecaţi.

Dream in the River’s Mouth    

Surrounded by an island of stones and grass,
I was dreaming in the river's mouth
when a horse, led by an old peasant,
lowered its head
to quench its thirst.

I was dreaming in the river's mouth
here at the foot of a blue mountain
stabbed high into the evening's last word.

Oh, the light of the old man's smile
when he asked me to hold his horse
so he too could drink the crystalline water!
I trembled at the life force
that surged in the young animal's body,
my hand at the bridle,
hardly daring to move next to
such poised beauty.

Bees encircled us with the balm of their buzzing,
small nuggets of gold embroidery glinting into
my solitude in the mountains.

Suddenly this landscape
slips to another:  narrow lanes, houses
peeking from behind other houses
cascading to the sea.
Ah, Lisbon,  city with a thousand lives.
Yellow trolleys climb steep hills.
The town fans out at my feet
and from high above, I see the brown despair
of the old cafe where Pessoa
used to sip espresso, or absinthe.

A wind like a gust of joy
envelops me
the moment I kneel
in the church of Saint Anthony
under the sky of his childhood,
where he dashed through streets rich with spices,
past palaces wreathed by orange groves
toward the Mar de palha, a sparkling bay
bright with spinnakers.

And how strong the Temptation
must have been, almost irresistible—
how great the boy's power
when, with his finger, young Anthony
dug the sign of the cross
into the stone of the church.

Dreaming in the river's mouth,
I return home to my island
of stones and grass, the sweet
spring grass of lambs.

 

Vis īn Gura Rīului   

Eram īn vis, la Gura Rīului
īnconjurată de pietre şi de iarbă,
līngă calul adus de batrīnul ţăran
să-şi potolească setea,
līngă muntele albastru īnfipt
īn ultimul cuvīnt al verii.

Cītă lumină īn zīmbetul bătrīnului
cīnd m-a rugat să-i ţin calul
pīnă ce bea şi el apă din rīu
iar eu, temătoare de forţa vieţii
din trupul animalului tīnăr
abia īndrăzneam să mă mişc
pierdută īn atīta calmă frumuseţe.
Albinele ne īnconjurau cu zumzetul lor,
pepite brodīnd cu aur
singurătatea mea din munţi.

Şi deodată
peisajul acesta alunecat īn altul,
cu străzi īnguste
şi case ascunse una īntr-alta
coborīnd vijelios spre mare.
Era Lisabona,
oraşul cu o mie de vieţi.
Tramvaie galbene urcau strada abruptă,
de sus aveam oraşul la picioare
şi puteam zări disperarea
din vechea cafenea
unde Pessoa īşi sorbea vinul.

O boare uşoară ca o bucurie
m-a cuprins
cīnd am īngenuncheat
īn biserica Sfīntului Anton
sub cerul īn care copilărise
alergīind pe străzile cu mirodenii
spre golful Marea de Pai cel cu sute de catarge,
apoi pe līngă palatele īnconjurate de portocali.

Şi cīt de puternică
trebuie să fi fost Ispita
şi cīt de mare forţa tīnărului Anton
cīnd degetul său a săpat semnul crucii
īn piatra bisericii pentru noi
cei cu solzi mulţi peste pleoape
pipăind cu mīini păcătoase Cerul,
marele semn al Mīntuirii.

M-am īntors
īn iarba mieilor, de acasă
īn Gura Rīului.

Liliana Ursu has published eight books of poetry in Romanian, most recently Lift Up Your Hearts (2002).  Her first book in English, The Sky Behind the Forest (Bloodaxe, 1997), translated by Ursu, Sorkin, and Gallagher, became a British Poetry Book Society Recommended Translation and was shortlisted for Oxford’s Weidenfeld Prize. Ursu has twice been Fulbright Lecturer at Penn State’s University Park campus. In fall 2003, she was Poet-in-Residence at the Bucknell’s Stadler Center.