death · Kiss · Life · Light · White

Brahma Kamal*

Like a flower which blooms in secret,
hiding her face from the world,
and wilts until the morning,
in absolute silence,
so is the heart of man.

Like a most delicate flower of the moon,
arising and dying unseen,
because any biting look crushes her –
breathing the perfume of high crests,
so is the heart of man.

For You are the moon watching
from behind auspicious clouds,
and all queens of the night
bloom only for You,
Father of sweetness, and of mysteries.

Romanian version

* This poem was inspired by the blog post A bloom of Joy – the mystical Brahma Kamal. Thank you for the wonders you share with us!

death · Faith · Love · Power

The mountains of Heaven

How can I describe that which
I have never seen?
How can I speak of Your Greatness?
Stars alone are the echo
of Your beautiful thoughts,
but their light does not go forth enough,
past our eyes’ blindness.

How can I describe
the mountains of Heaven?
How can I speak of Your Essence?
Birds alone bring testimony
that You can fly without feathers,
but their chirping does not enter
our ears, deaf to Your music.

How can I describe that which
cannot be unless You let it happen?
How can I speak of Your Presence?
You are everywhere I go,
in every water I swam,
and I am never alone by Your side,
not even when I finally close my eyes.

death · Faith · Sky

Wooden bell

The wooden bell is only a shadow,
a prophecy of spring.
It takes fire, and heartache
to make a bell sing.

Beyond the foundations of time
lays the plain of sweet seeds,
where Your thoughts come to life
in butterfly shape.

Alas, we wander the earth
looking for a sign from You,
while You arise in silence
solid stars on our path.

In the scent of linden flowers
You visit us most often,
though You make no efforts
to stop us from falling.

How often have we asked You
the same green question:
Why do cheerily robins choke
in the hawk’s tight embrace?

Romanian version

death · Life · Sacred · Wide

Love in Damascus

to Lena Chamamyan

Until death becomes green
at the Damascus gates.
That’s how long I will love you,
like rain, on and on.

I once slept in your arms
at the gate of the orchards,
now, your fingers – uprooted
can’t keep winter warm.

Oh, blood flows in rivers
under the gate of the peace,
while your armies are resting
on white plains of defeat.

Beneath, holy waters,
above, empty sky,
you have outgrown your fate
turning cedars to pyre.

This city of jasmine
is still home for our hearts,
though birds have stopped singing
at Bab al-Saghir.

That’s how long I will love you,
like the springtime – unseen
at the gates of Damascus,
until moon becomes green.

Romanian version

inspired by the song “Love in Damascus” – Lena Chamamyan

death · Faith · Light · Power

Paper boats

On paper boats, in the morning hour,
you can hear the sea’s longing, in ice bells.
On paper boats, in midday hour,
when children sleep, and billy goats are silent in the stable.

On paper boats, in long evening hour,
when the shepherd gathers once more the whole flock.
What faces of light we keep in our memory,
for we don’t have enough time to carve them precisely,

and how many pages will remain unwritten
of the mysterious embodiment, confessed in dreams?
You will prepare a rich table, sprinkled with red wine,
in the wonderful house, guarded by archangels.

On paper boats, on a copper sea,
You will come again, My Lord, surrounded by glory.

Romanian version

death · Light · Sky

The most

You sit on the lake shore in silence,
the wind blows among the old plum trees.
What are you thinking about right now, my love,
when I am so close to you,
so close that you can hold me tight
to your chest, who has loved long ago?

I watch the ducks in silence,  while they slowly drift
on the mirror of the greenish water,
among the barely blooming pond lilies.
I no longer think about the past,
I just feel your breath,
and your heartbeat.

My love,
my love,
time will soon stand still,
in your voice the night is more blue.
I love you the most
when we look at the stars together.

Romanian version

Bridge · death · Faith · Kiss


I feel You dying in my chest,
as lively now as You were then,
as well a man as You are god,
embracing everything that breathes.

I feel You dying in my chest,
You are as radiant as ever,
enchained into an evil thought,
the ruler over land and water.

I feel You burning in my chest,
I hear Your calling in the dawn
to fire, You’ve such gentle voice;
it is so close, our embracement.

I feel You burning in my chest,
and You have gathered new brave people,
the flowers laughing in the gardens
alongside heroes will soon sleep.

Romanian version