Скачать или смотреть Dan Sociu/Saudade/poem

To be as real as possible, you wake up free falling.
The same metaphysical organism that, on a rainy morning, invented limits
gives you some sort of bicycle for losing control.
A bicycle without a handle, to get you hands used to nothing to grab
without pedals, to forget about your legs
without wheels, to get used to no direction to follow.
The knees of a stranger go up and down
grow closer and distant rhythmically .
Some relaxing elevator music from the skies
reminds you that you are where you should be.
You aren’t because you never were
and the height from which you fall grows with thousands of meters per second
but it’s OK, from 10 meters on it doesn’t matter anyway how you fall.
And one morning you give up on returning, the stranger’s legs take you wherever they want
Your mouthless cat, Saudade, comes near your closed eyelids
and whimpers from the chest for your touch
the flying man cemented between the poplar’s branches
looks at you through the opened window
and his eyes beg for your touch.
Because we fell apart and we rarely see each other
only during crises, when they retire to India, in ashrams
the stuntmen that secretly support the legends of our heroic lives
I suspect my friends for going mad
and I guess they also suspect me.
Last time, by the levee, we did tests
on the dark image of the forest and the forest’s image in the lake.
I saw a rabbit, he was fishing with his ears
Gabi saw one of those fluffy mourning creatures
which you buy to forget a dear one in your place
Anto saw the ash of the forest.
It got chilly, the older crows, the ones that flew over our parents
when they were going to school and over us when we were returning
were going back to Rahova.
Only in the morning it became obvious that the forest
and the trees’ shadow in the lake
always have the same shapes, silly and steady
that the madness is in the forest and in the lake or in the decorator, not in us.
The crows looked at us with the sympathetic eyes of youth
and they didn’t help us understand our wrath.

translated from Romanian by Ioana Vlad