Sonnet / Sonet Poem by Magdalena Biela

Surîd? Obisnuinta... Cred c-as putea chiar rîde:
Tu spui cã-n cea mai dulce iubire-i o prigoanã?
Îmî amintesc: pe-o veche si stranie icoanã
E un martir ce-si duce tãiatu-i cap la gâde.
Cu inima-mi asijderi s-a petrecut demult:
S-a strãmutat în tine si m-a lãsat strigoi...
Tu nu stii cã ea bate acuma pentru doi?
Nu simti în piept adaos de glorios tumult?
Necontenit în preajma-ti, sã sug rãsuflet, sînge,
M-aduce ca din groapa misterioasã sete...
Cînd plec, ajung acasã o umbra pe perete,
Ca-n palida icoanã ce-aievea mã rãsfrînge...


Zimbesc? Obisnuinta... Cred c-as putea chiar rîde;
Stiu un nebun ce-si duce cap, inima... la gâde.


V. VOICULESCU

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I smile? A habit only...I'd even laugh defiant:
You say that in the sweetest love is a grinding?
An ancient and strange icon is always reminding
of a martyr that's carrying his severed head to the tyrant.
The same thing happened also to my heart long ago:
She moved inside your body and left me as a ghost...
Don't you know that she's beating for you and I the most?
Don't you feel an odd beating in a tumultuous echo?
Unceasingly around you, to suck your breath, your blood,
A mystic thirst wakes me, as from grave I'd been brought...
A shadow on the wall I go home like a thought,
like in the pallid icon that mirrors my own mud...



I smile? A habit only...I'd even laugh defiant;
I know a madman carrying his head, heart...to the tyrant.


English version, Maria Magdalena Biela