Verses by Lucian Blaga, translated by Julia Kalman
Please make sure to spend a minimum of 30 seconds reading my story.
I truly cherish the interaction of authentic readers. Thank you very much!
The winged gatekeeper extends
a hilt of a flameless sword.
He doesn’t fight with anyone,
yet feels himself defeated.
Everywhere, on meadows and fields,
seraphim with snowy hair
thirst for truth,
but the well waters
reject their buckets.
Plowing without command
with wooden plows,
archangels lament
the weight of their wings.
Among neighboring suns passes
the dove of the Holy Spirit,
with its plumage extinguishing the last lights.
Naked angels
shiver as they lie down in hay:
woe is me, woe is you,
many spiders have filled the living water,
once they will rot, and angels beneath the earth,
the soil will dry up the stories
from their sad bodies.
Please, clap, engage, and… stay tuned for the next story…!
But, most importantly, a profound thank you to each one
of you. Your unwavering support has been invaluable.
Julia Kalman 