Verses by Ion Minulescu, translated by Julia Kalman
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On my crimson lips today, I bear the stigma,
Of silent disasters from the final enigma.
Upon my red lips — summer sunsets’ passion,
I wear the traces of a lost battle in the palace,
Of the Eternal Tomorrow
And the bygone Yesterday!…
You told me one evening it was the last,
Alas!… The final evening sadly passed.
I see you even today, defeated and laid,
On the same passionate and ancient sofa,
Where love was made.
With closed eyelids,
With clenched mouth,
And hands in a cross like two banners,
Saved from the fire of the burning citadel!…
Poorly defeated by your own defeated will,
Supreme calling that loses its thrill.
Nocturnal light of a falling star,
On my red lips, observe the stigma from the last war,
And listen to the strident guitar of your struggle,
Crying,
And behind, how it dies in the palace,
Of the Eternal Tomorrow
And the bygone Yesterday!…
There are voices of bells that seem to call you,
And voices of ropes creaking in the wind’s cue…
A voice of a rope and a voice of copper,
Struggle together,
And two sentences melt into a single word,
“Your lover deceives you”…
“Your lover deceives you”…
And in life, the same eternal Beginning,
Is only the desecration of those Endings,
Lived
And passed with those from the past!
Ion Minulescu (January 6, 1881 — April 11, 1944) was a Romanian avant-garde poet, novelist, short story writer, journalist, literary critic, and playwright.
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Julia Kalman 