La capa amplia del árbol
la gota de fuego del semen
y las estrellas que viven como obras de aire
que nos rodean como pequeños ojos
de transparente
movimiento en la invisible selva
del deseo, la bolsa negra
en donde en aleatorio barajeo
se mueve destino y sueño
como impulsos de un ciego
amor a la vida.
take some
seed
of
the
noise
steal a
sky
from the
clouded silence
trace
the
color
of this fictitious
birth
engrave
the
nail of death
in the blood
of fear
collect
the
honey
like a
bee of
queenless nights
measure
the eye
and taste the
tongue
of the eternal
nectarous
DOUBT.
Crecimiento de honda espuma
en borde cristalino del instante,
la verdadera esencia de inexistir…
toda una estructura de humo
esta tierra inasible
que apenas se asoma
sobre el página negra de la sensación;
el poema sueña como sinfonía de memorias
es rima e imagen la acción del tiempo;
todo queda para la lengua,
como un sabor oculto de nacimiento,
cierro los ojos
y veo la verdad –
la oscuridad donde descansa la vida
llena de chispas efímeras,
la cobija recóndita de sombra
que cubre la materia,
todo duerme…
y sueño
con la poesía.
The emission of the lotus
some of the vapor of my personality
arriving in the blue club of antecedents
so the understanding of oblivion
powered by the moon empty
of hair and hour,
this is the shadow of life
and the open desert of knowledge,
arson and the noise of sleep:
this is my tongue
and its seduction
of darkness.
the horizon swells with rawness
a white cumulous beehive,
my thoughts circle the distance
like black heavy flies,
the hairs of time
stroking my mind
like the drunken summer of an engine;
the horizon swells with pink oil
all the trees are horses
with green galloping flowers as their
heads,
my joy is the shy protruding
obnubilation
frozen in the sky like a gray cusp of moon
–
I am the city
with the touch as long as the empty
avenues;
my eyes strange
as the streetlight’s gloom.
¡Mar!
Oculto.
En el centro
de horas.
¡Mar!
De dulce
cristal –
roble de antaño
en la cúspide
de la obra negra.
Como vida ciega
con amor al acto,
con sombra al nombre.
¡Nado ahí!
Mar secreto,
en el centro
del olvido,
inconsciente
como la luna
detrás del
minuto.
I offer you
the wicked cosmology
of my tongue
the desiccated sun
floating in the surface
of my thoughts
I have here for you
the language
of the flame
for you
the oval blaze
of nothingness
flowing
like light and mirror
inside the disfigured artery
of this dream
for you
the wet age
of my despair
in your hand
the gusts of my knowledge
storming
the crumbling walls
that divide
body and infinitude.
Es de certeza
mi inercia
de formar un tronco
firmemente arraigado
en el firmamento
de la mutación,
es de verdad
mi exilio
de cruzar las fronteras
de la materia
para encontrar la flor china
del alma,
es de amistad
mi filosofía
de entrelazar
algo del mundo
y la imaginación
en la triste obra
de un
poema.
Digesting
the poison rule of desire
I have to choose my eyes
and shut them hard
to taste the illusion,
aloft in the descent of darkness
the static of essence
emerges, black liquid coal
in these orbs born
to drown in light.
The decrepit couple
man and woman
the last steps of life,
Chisinau their home
and root.
Rooted in the artic
clear hour of pain,
red indelible struggle;
to choose to close the eyes
and dissolve,
to choose shadow
me or them,
in our walk towards
the great structure
of death.
Motion of orange limb
cloudlike epicenter
in the mindful gap
of my vision –
motion
bulging multitudes
of dismay
faraway kaleidoscope
in the origin of the mind,
of dense, opulent
location – married to
chance and improbability,
the bread of destiny
in the ruthless jaw of divine
novelistic forces –
a day here
and a bulge of eternal
there,
two
spiraling towards each other
like the allegories
of the eternal return
and the empty
nirvana.
Beyond Language 
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