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.

Alina Olimpia Gaci Miron

Simona Grazia Dima
 

Armour of fire

We feared fire, in it we lost our helplessness.
Always on the lookout-asking ourserlves for what: the flame,
the incendiary ship (but we were too shy to tell one another),
the flame which could ravish us anytime,
anywhere. The chalice in our hands, we knew
a phoenix might appear, for us to jump on its back.
Burned, to be the invincible knight. From the beginning,
there’s no armour. As if from mist his veins appear,
like the angel wing takes shape in front of the one who prays.
And only after the fire does the afternoon heat start,
the burning after the burn. The cheery conflagration, the happy burn,
the guffaw of the flame. On the old volcano, the children discover
blue anemones. Calling out, they step on the ice-hole
under which the blazes wittily, but awake, blink.