THE SHADOW OF THE WORLD PASSES OVER MY HEART1

I haven’t the courage of a relocated stone.
You’ll find me stretched on a damp bench
beyond all army camps and arenas.

I’m empty as a plastic bag
filled with air.

With hands parted and fingers joined
I indicate a roof.

My absence is a consequence
of all recounted histories and deliberate longings.

I have a heart pierced by a rib.
Fragments of glass float through my blood
and clouds hidden behind white cells.

The ring on my hand has no shadow of its own
and is reminiscent of the sun. I haven’t the courage
of a relocated star.

 

1Lucian Blaga