IOANA IERONIM

Fugue


a few words on the screen
a signal from you
all of me flashes in response
I can see you come
and go
in loops of night phosphorescence

here you are waiting in ambush
storming
again

worlds apart
suspended in a tune
we swallow half of the sentences
we thrust and break lines
in one breath
virtual real virtual virtual real
wieder again iar encore

percussion for word and distance

*

as there is so little time so much space
why waste time and not write poems
directly on your body
as for instance a few lines
in every palm
terzinas on your cheeks
a smiling rondeau on your lips
sonnets on your shoulders
haikus on your breast
…and you whispering
your answers…
then more lines reaching around
willow branches of a pantoum
and a pair of ghazals
as tasseled slippers
written when the moon
is being sifted through leaves

but if such tattoo is too pagan for us
and naïve
as late in history as this
or still as early,
let’s just drape ourselves
and roll in words,
our silk and satin

*

be unconsoled
cry, woman
you say

and I am treading the ground of my pain
as if for the first time

I take handfuls of dust I cover myself with dust
I swallow the poison
that a half empty moon is spilling
from this November sky

be unconsoled and cry, woman,
you say
look things in the face

*

“every book is a vanquished illness”
the Transylvanian poet Lucian Blaga
once said
and our tribe has repeated it
as undisputed truth
ever since

every book a vanquished illness
I was thinking, with all these words
rolled in a tangible papyrus,
but have we forgotten all humility
as to believe it may indeed heal

heal Love and Death
as it were?

*

as atoms split
and split once more
in windy gardens
and find themselves again
and swirl and then break up
and still keep gliding

a timeless dance imprinted in us

so I now find myself
under the force of gravity
of a sentiment
that daily dresses me in
ever changing shapes
without ever asking

Carmen Dumitru

Ioana Ieronim
 

Fuga

cateva cuvinte pe ecran
un semn de la tine
ma-nfiorez cu totul
te vad cum te-apropii
cum te-ndepartezi
in luminile fosforescente ale noptii

aici astepti sa ma iei prin surprindere
ca o furtuna
din nou

la lumi departare
suspendati intr-un acord muzical
ne-nghitim cuvintele pe jumatate
incepem si rupem sirul
dintr-o suflare
virtual real virtual virtual real
wieder again iar encore

percutie a cuvantului si-a distantei

*

cum timpul e-asa scurt si spatiul asa mare
de ce sa pierdem timpul in loc sa scriem poeme
direct pe-ale noastre trupuri
ca de exemplu cateva randuri
pe ambele palme
tertine pe obraji
un rondel zambaret de buze
sonete pe-ai tai umeri
haiku pe-al tau piept
…si tu soptind
ale tale raspunsuri…
apoi mai multe versuri imbratisand
ramurile de salcie ale unui pantum
-si-o pereche de ghazal
ca niste papuci cu ciucurasi
scrise cand luna
se strecoara printre Frunze

dar daca un asemenea tatuaj ne pare prea pagan
si naiv
tarziu in istorie ca asta
sau tot mai devreme,
hai sa ne costumam
si sa ne-nfrasuram in cuvinte,
ale noastre matasuri si satin

*

neconsolata
plangi, femeie
imi spui

si pasesc pe taramul durerii mele
ca pentru prima data

iau tarana-n pumni si m-acopar cu ea
inghit otrava varsata de-o luna pe jumatate plina
din cerul asta de noiembrie

neconsolata stai si plangi, femeie,
imi spui
priveste lucrurile asa cum sunt

*

“o boala-nvinsa e orice carte”
Lucian Blaga
a spus candva
si de-atunci neamul nostrum
i-a repetat cuvintele
ca adevar de necontestat

boala-nvinsa orice carte
ma gandeam, cu toate aceste cuvinte
infasurate-ntr-un papyrus
uitat-am oare orice farama de umilinta
incat sa credem ca poate cu-adevarat vindeca

chiar si Iubirea si Moartea
cum s-ar zice?

*

asa cum atomii se divid
iar si iar si din nou
in gradini rascolite de vant
si se regasesc
se-nvart si se despart
lunecand mai departe

dansul nepieritor intiparit in fiinta

tot asa iata ma gasesc
in campul de gravitatie
al unui sentiment
ce zilnic ma invaluie
in forme forme vesnic schimbatoare
si nu-ntreaba niciodata