Disco Elegy
Margarita realized
that
She’s
flying at a fantastic speed.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Night, moon – a
vinyl disc with
33,5 rotations
per minute playing
The sad waltz of
the flying woman. It’s
farther than
the power of our
sight,
the power of our
hearing
yet
even from out
there she recognizes this city – one
from the
beginning of the XXth century
in which the
trill of the nightingale is heard
at its very
center.
Over the high
and flat roofs,
like aerodrome
runways
the dusk is like
coffee
that steams
at the edge of
which
tremble the
burned lips of the neon publicity
Only in the old
and narrow street the tram
still brings
light, seldomly,
from its
windows, in a blink of an eye…
In that street
Margarita gave
and received as a gift
her first kiss.
How she felt the world then!
Tears of
joy wet her
cheeks and now
when she carries
on her lips
the echo of that
revelation – shattered dream,
unseen
dream.
(Unreachable the
past?
But maybe the
river can be crossed like the
Middle Ages…)
Soft soaring,
soft soaring…
In the deep
silence
where, as her
blood trickles, pouring clearly
from her
shoulders - risen
like the eternal
shine of the stars over her head
in the clear sky
above…
Soft soaring.
The city is below
Too low.
Not here anymore, far in
the Universe
Heart
do not be a
solitary island, sing,
flying woman.
The Ensign Rilke
Revived in
renunciation
I climb over my
own head – from there
There is a
better view – from there
I can dive into
myself, into the subliminal
Doing circles,
where inside of me, in my nature that realizes
The state of
absurdity yet as a limitation of its fullness
That not even
the absurd can be definitive
Omnipresent
(among others be it subliminal)
If you can
withstand the darkness of your own depth
Dive! Your
consciousness trembling
Reinvigorating
it, spreading it in corollas of waves
Creating the
necessary polychrome-semantic
The
seekers-in-the-mystery
(and allowance?)
I climb exposed
to vertical wanderings
And from above I
see the ensign Rilke
Galloping
through the immense field of his own German-Austrian
Poetry (I almost
said Romanian-Bessarabian)
As language and
Universalia, as geography
That's why I
make the conclusion that climbing on the top of your
Head
You see the
others more clearly and – importantly
Even the
important (imported) ones
From the point
of view of the polisher of lenses
Meaning
Of the spirit –
the world as volumetric space ship of the
Fullness-emptiness
(,) empty-fullness grave-cenotaph – that
The notion
Is just this one
– impulse of philosophical seeking
All the others
being nothing but accessories-combustions the anti-
Sleep
Which confirms
that the present discourse is not mere
Rambling of the
absurd – the combustion of the delight of becoming
Through
Climbing on the
top of your head and
Of the others,
your fellows, some of them being
Grandiose as the
ensigns
Donator To All
We all have to
see
Sometimes
How it becomes
thinner
And stretches
immeasurably
The last strip
of sunset – relaxed
As the arm from
which
It seems like
For mortals
God donates
blood.
Translated From
Romanian By: Marcel Gherman
LEO BUTNARU
LEO BUTNARU: Was born in Negureni,
Orhei County, in the Republic of Moldova 5 January 1949. Is a writer from Moldova
and Romania. Licensed in journalism and philology from the University of
Moldova (1972). Activated in the periodical press, from editor to chief-editor:
“Tinerimea Moldovei”, “Literatura si arta”, “Moldova”. Debuted with the book of
poetry Aripa in lumina (Wing in light)(1976). In 1977 becomes member of the
Writers’ Union of USSR. In the same year is discharged from his position at
newspaper “Tinerimea Moldovei” (in spite of promoting for publication an
arcticle about M. Kogalniceanu, which transgressed the imperial-communist
ideological line). Member of the Writers’ Union of Romania (1993). Founding
member of the PEN Center of Moldova. Between years 1997-2005 – president of
Chisinau Branch of the Writers’ Union of Romania. Member of Council of Writers’
Union of Romania. Author's books appeared in France, Germany, Italy, Russia,
Poland, Serbia, Azerbaijan, Bulgaria, Tatarstan, Ukraine. Multiple
prizes of Writers’ Union of Moldova, Writers’ Union of Romania Prize (1998;
2015) and the National Prize of Republic of Moldova (2002), the Prize of the
Directing Committee and the Council of Writers’ Union of Romania (2008).
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