One Poem by Svetlana Cârstean
One
For a long time sleep entered the same gate
into me and into her,
the same gate joy entered,
fear,
taste, smell, the softness of the cherries.
My heaviness was her heaviness,
my nails, her nails,
my air, her air.
The two of us dreamed the same dream,
we were one:
a woman who went through the streets
alone,
strolling, or by train, by bus.
Translation from Romanian by Claudia Serea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 7:20:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
