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!

Kiss · Life · White

Our curtain

Our house has no curtains,
hence we are open to solitude.
Our house has no perfume,
it’s not yet carnation’s time to bloom.

We laugh a lot between the walls
of our miraculous home –
it is usually a little cold,
so we hold each other very tight.

You have prepared our home
before you knew I would come,
and there is nothing missing
except the curtain with tufts,

but I guess you’ll arrange it alone.

Kiss · Light · Love · Power

The last border

Show me the place
where the sweet doves rest,
please show me the place
where your heart dies.

I want to walk with you
along the shores of despair,
we will step on dry leaves,
holding hands, holding hands.

We breathe inside a spell;
you carry the light,
and I am always hungry
for the warmth of your palm.

We crossed the final border,
we are home at last –
I feel your every thought,
your lips – they taste like grass.

Romanian version

Kiss · Power · Sacred · Still

Drawings

I draw the circles and the lines
by white chalk on the asphalt,
I draw the trees.

If I stretch out my hand
I can gather the clouds
and make a blue angel out of them.

My love, come here,
because the mornings are late
and the night is so sweet.

Your eyes are glowing,
in the dry horizon you can see the cranes
crossing the fog.

Like in a strange season
all is awry,
only I know, only you know

that it’s not the symmetry making us happy,
but the remembrance of live faces
which have watched over our childhood.

Everything is dry in your absence,
odorless, colorless, useless,
they are all waiting for you to occupy your place.

Romanian version

Bridge · death · Faith · Kiss

Dying

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

Kiss · Road · Sacred · White

At the end of the world

At the end of the world there is a blue ship,
climbing through dreams, a longing in the window.
At the end of the world an angel awaits,
watching by the oak tree with wise leaves.

At the end of the world, like the midday sun,
stopping the future billy goats falter.
At the end of the world, the mystery, giving birth
to the springs of life, arises two celestial bodies.

At night’s margins, a thought like a beast
roars and bellows, with violin tongue.
At sea’s margins, in the story hour,
the Song of Songs, like none other is.

Romanian version