1. On Love,
2. I am not a story
1. On Love,
|The best time I made
love to you was
making love to you
At that time we were holding the hands
We let ourselves being watched from
above, from a window.
we were laughing, our hands filled with
throwing to the others`
faces the wiped cream extracted from our ears.
The best time I will make
love to you will be
I will make love to you
will simply be
It won`t be necessary to
name you any more
I will walk on the street
whistling with my scar exposed
the wind will softly carry the soap bubbles
breaking them on the past
pain of the cats` tails.
One thing is simply
impossible for me
Make love to you
when I make love to you
Because then you don`t even
I don`t even exist
we don`t even imagine that
Together we are somebody`s
cake on the moon,
that eats us slowly,
with your mouth, with my
with my scar caressing your
with my pain kissing your
until nothing of us is
until love is my nostril in
which you sit
when you hold me into your
Cel mai bine am făcut dragoste cu
Înainte de a face dragoste cu
Atunci ne țineam de mână spuneam
Ne lăsam priviți de sus, de la o
Râdeam, cu mâinile pline de aer,
trântind celorlalți în nas frișca
pe care ne-o scoteam din urechi.
Cel mai bine voi face dragoste cu
După ce voi fi făcut dragoste cu
Atunci pur și simplu vei fi
nu va mai fi nevoie să te numesc
ci voi merge fluierînd pe stradă
cu cicatricea la vedere
Și vântul va purta încetișor
baloanele de săpun
Spărgându-le de durerea trecută a
cozilor de pisici.
Un lucru însă mi-e imposibil:
Să fac dragoste cu tine
când fac dragoste cu tine
Pentru că atunci nici măcar nu
nici măcar nu exist
nici măcar nu ne închipuim că
Luați împreună suntem prăjitura
cuiva de pe lună.
care ne mănâncă lent,
cu gura ta, cu degetele mele,
cu cicatricea mea mângâind
cu durerea mea sorbind durerea ta
până nu mai rămânem
până când iubirea e nara mea în care stai
când mă ții la tine-n ureche.
I am not a story
Looooong time ago
was a virgin
around kept telling me
ARE A VIRGIN
mother: dont wear that dress!
father (as well as my little nephew): whyyyy? Whyyyyy? Wheeeeere ?
Beaty kissing Nathalie Wood: oh, darling!
boyfriend Cristian: by the way, my parents are out for dinner, would
you come to see my bookshop?
woman at the trams window: I was young, SO young!
world was trying so hard to attract me with a certain unavoidable
night under the moon my mother, my father, my aunt, Warren Beaty,
boyfriend Cristian, Nathalie Wood and the whole cast of Splendor in
get together and push the wheel of time:
Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Zero!
Everybody just KNEW that the day will come
day of Tomorrow.
unvirgin: I just couldnt decide.
no longer an intimate matter
World was SURE.
were just waiting.
those days I used to cover my face with my hair
think about nothing
in my room, in a sunny afternoon, behind my lazy legs
longer knowing about love
especially not The Virgin
myself, The Daughter, marring a good boy
myself, The Lover, undressing in Cristians room
Warren Beaty kissing Nathalie Wood
the old woman counting the people who would weep at her grave
was dying as she was old
die when we are old
pretty sure I stopped the time in that sunny afternoon
decided not to be your character
even my character
to be nobody
woman but not quite
daughter but not quite
lover but not quite
not really me
chose to make love with a stranger because I loved Cristian
really didnt want us to be some fucking characters of our stories
refused to contribute to the worlds wisdom
made love with the first man that made me feel like a woman
told Cristian and he got upset
mother got upset
Nathalie Wood kissed Warren Beaty
Everybody did what he was supposed to do
them all together one night under the moon
Celebrating the day of Tomorrow
fact thats how life is
Afterwards, me, the unvirgin, I chose Cristian
didnt choose me
too late, he said
broke my dreams.
Cristian the chance to live
is not our fixed ideas
IS NOT A STORY
is not Romeo and Juliet
is the story we make about us
what we would do
we were "us",
fact that our children will remember we were good
guess Cristian was so tired to be The Virgins Lover
stepped outside the story and walked away
poems by Adina Dabija