Foamea De Unu / The Hunger For One Poem by Magdalena Biela

Voi, numere-n delir, scrumite grupuri, cum pot sa va slavesc?
Iubire, tu -fii vantul rosu ce-a batut prin trupuri si, timp de-o clipa, -n carnea lor facu sa arda-ntregul: cel ce ca un umar de zeu luceste, care nu e nici absenta numarului, dar nici numar! invata-ma cum sa hranesc aici o pasare ce n-are timp sa zboare caci piere - pui - in propriul ei ou, o boare ce respira-n alta boare, un cantec care nu-i decat ecou; si, mai ales, aceste vagi rasfrangeri intr-o oglinda sparta, ca si cum oceanul ar scuipa pe tarmuri ingeri exact in patu-n care noi zacum.
Al cui nisip suntem?
Cel ce nu poate sa numere (de-a pururea fiind doar
Unu) vai! e numarat in toate fragmentele - ce-l neaga putrezind.


STEFAN AUGUSTIN DOINAS


...................................

The hunger for one

You, numbers in delirium, ashen groups, how can I glorify you?
Love, you - be the red wind that blew through the bodies and, for a moment, in their flesh made the whole burn: he who shines like a god's shoulder, who is neither the absence of number, nor number! teach me how to feed here a bird that has no time to fly because it perishes - chick - in its own egg, a breath that breathes into another, a song that is nothing but an echo; and, especially, these vague reflections in a broken mirror, as if the ocean were spitting angels on the shores right in the bed we were lying in.
Whose sand are we?
He who cannot count (always being only
One) alas! is counted in all the fragments - which denies it rotting.

English version, Maria Magdalena Biela