A thousand strong

Posted in versuri/poetry, [english] on Mai 13, 2011 by traveller to erebus

I am a thousand men, their cries
I sense with urge and longing;
Before her image, mighty death,
They all prepare to flee, but one
Whose heart keeps them within him

I am a thousand strong, in me
Their weaknesses are mine;
Before her image, mighty death,
They all fall to a giant slumber,
And all their weakness writhes and rots –
There’s one, though, who beholds them all
And to her lullabies believes
A thousand strong be in him

I am a thousand men, the mistress
They all seek is pale and grins;
When they do battle with her scythe
They all do fall – if one remains
To witness her, to scour the hearts
And reach towards her staring guise,
Then all has not been vain

Reclame

Before the monument of death

Posted in versuri/poetry, [english] on Februarie 16, 2011 by traveller to erebus

The cycles of the lonely sun
Give way to an awaited pause;
Before the monument of death
It too deserves its solitary end
With dread – a burst of the desire to stay,
With struggle – just a faint glimpse to the night,
With pain at heart – the echo of the passing tides –
The end will come, and no-one ever did betray the end
To keeping a companion, or a heart.
Before the monument of death, alone,
All rest awhile and then depart and pass
Like leaves from one small tree, now lost apart,
Without a brother or a parent, or grandson,
Or teacher, or a guide, or sage,
Or any other man or beast to take them by the hand,
Only the boatman, who, for two coins thrown
Will speak no word and take the last, and least
From footsteps nigh, beyond the monument of death,
Alone

Babilon (privind spre Babilon)

Posted in versuri/poetry, [română] on Mai 31, 2010 by traveller to erebus

Priveam însingurat, din satul gol,
Înspre câmpia pustie și arsă de soare –
Câteva case răsfirate la marginea deșertului de mărăcini
Conduceau călătorul în neștire, în depărtare –
Acolo se vedea, la miezul zilei fix,
Un miraj ce se-ondula,
Al unor ziduri mari de piatră apărând către apus,
Către sfârșitul unei lumi sau două,
Acolo unde cerul se termină, și unde zumzetul muștelor
Anunță intrarea în împărăția lor,
De veghe

Ce știau ei oare, atunci, cei
Ce locuiau în acele palate de piatră
Ce-acum doar în mirajul grădinilor lor se-arată?
Ce vrăji făceau ei, cei
Ce-au clădit ziggurate, ce-au clădit dinți de fier
Unde acum e doar mirajul câmpiilor lor triste,
Pierdute-n deșert

Mă intorc stingher,
Prin câmpii de mărăcini, prin sate aproape complet părăsite,
Pe drumuri cu praf, prin orașe cu porți căzute,
Pe lângă fabrici ce se năruie și se-ascund în pământ,
Pe lângă cafenele goale, ponosite
Pe lângă roiuri de fețe obosite, ce nu mai viețuiesc acolo,
Dintr-un deșert cu povești și miraje, într-altul
(Un Babilon mai mic privind spre umbra unuia mai mare)
Dinspre apus înspre apus,
Sub soarele etern de miazăzi

???

Posted in visual on Mai 10, 2010 by traveller to erebus

???

Nu știu sa desenez, dar mă mai apucă. Ignoră textul, era singurul carnețel la îndemână.

Exile #3 („Imperfect”)

Posted in versuri/poetry, [english] on Aprilie 18, 2010 by traveller to erebus

I fell from my imperfect paradise of gold
Another age, another life in time,
Through which, as through old city streets a passer by,
I stood in awe, and deemed it all as mine

I stand before a tragedy of man
With eyes half-closed, and eyebrows clad in frost,
And my escape, it is no longer there, before my eyes
And taking shy steps back, hope not to have it lost;

I used to try to beat from my imperfect wings,
To reach imperfect heights and burn imperfect flames
Now I appear and vanish in the night
And my imperfect home embitters me in shame

My Heaven and my Hell change place at my command,
And greater fires blaze, and die, and never start,
But there, in my imperfect paradise of gold
There’s always an abode for my imperfect heart

Exile #2

Posted in versuri/poetry, [english] on Aprilie 18, 2010 by traveller to erebus

I tread the ground of my own skin
With silent steps, one after one
In my own town I move, alas,
On roads of sand and roads undone

My country’s mist, and though I’m home
The exile creeps inside my bones;
The mornings whisper dreams they lack;
The letters that I write come back –
And thoughts do go,
And thoughts do go…

Old faces gone, new faces dream
My distant lands are lost in sight –
I walk with mellow lights as guide
And silent guard against the night

For life to flow,
For life to flow,
To make my exile round, complete
I’ll dream new exiles, and retreat
And be all empty once again, and blind
And drink back memory, and lie

Treading the ground of my own skin
With silent steps, one after one,
Of all the stories in the air
I am an exile, I am none

I’d love to see you die

Posted in versuri/poetry, [english] on Februarie 13, 2010 by traveller to erebus

I’d love to see you die,
So you can bloom,
And rise like Phoenix to the sky,
And so that in your cries I taste our lives,
As they were bred, enchained, deformed,
Yell and revolt against their maker –
So I can taste death from your eyes,
I’d love to see you die

I’d love to see you die,
So I can pass
One step behind the wicked line
That keeps me here, inside my house,
Where living live and dead do die –
To tear this leaden sky, alas,
I’d love to see you die

I’d love to see you die,
So I can step
Beyond what they describe as grandeur of all death –
To see the horrid rest beyond
The silvery sky at dusk –
To catch you in mid-flight, I’d love
To see you pass, from realm to realm
With one wing ruptured from a brutal Earth, and one,
A dying mind, in stark descent.
At border line, where weeping weeps,
Where all that’s been and all that’s left
Is narrowed to a lonesome cry,
Trapped in a sigh, at once, with you,
I’d love to see you die!