Unfinished Poem Poem by Dorina Brandusa Landen

As a child I was told
that world is very beautiful
it was a time for legends
a time to fly
restless under cloudless sky
I've spent my days very quickly
and something went silent in my soul

but here's how a stone breaks from the mountains
under the earth is stretching the frost
and the memories are rolling into abis
the stairs of the world are filled with hate
and over the edges of Europe
crows croak incessantly
more terrible than Poe's raven.

walking barefoot in field
in the middle of a country where it's snowing too much
it's raining too much the field is ready
forrowed is the flesh of the earth brown and bare
wonderfully beautiful
as a woman's fecund womb beaming
in the harsh light of a dawn

I stroll through tiny snow
over fields and vast wastelands worlds
wandering in the foreign white space
with my white hands with my dilated memory -
in which anonymous daily facts are crowded -
with pangs in shoulder blades and hips -
the slug of a daily work
that is chewing me little by little -
I don't do anything other than walk
with my back bent under snow
that so many of them smear

glaciers burn under my sole in my march ahead
of time whatever wind blows in my face
I feel I am afar from all these distances
I go and live on
I speak eat work collapse

believing that I found a way
I'm ready to compile a book keeping
vindicating the snowfalls
a parable of leniency
for those who are too far apart
too beautiful on the outside
and too feeble on the inside
ants on the earth's white forehead
dying a death without pain

I see how my path turns red
and the more you resist
the more it will snow
with a light of lead.

in me grows a winter that oppresses me
perhaps it isn't snowing I'm just tired
the time and my dreams peris too quickly
I haven't got the power to watch stars shining like a fox's eyes
to listen to the broken song of the blind traveller
in retreat to the farthest place of life
it's impossible to love entirely
the night lits the cold flowing heavily meaningless
over a perfect sad world under a heavenly blue
and I haven't got the power to return
in the middle of a well-dressed crowd and hollow
where the chosen ones are dealing with whitening of consciousness
hoisting signs and instructions promulgating laws
that will fall like a snow over our heads

I live in a time of decline
ah how my heart is cooling the feeling of helplessness
and no other half heats the other half
although I love the kingdom of people I can no longer continue
not even writing with my blood on the snow.