Of Love and Anarchy

Novalis

These poems are translated from Romanian :

You’ve suddenly wandered off again,
The lattice turns and starts to moan,
You’ve flown again in aging everglades,
Where nonsense roams, babies are home,
Did you forget the bicycle? No, just how to ride it…
And you entered in deep rooms, and you found yourself asking a thorn,
And you passed a rather broken stove, and your head hit a clear sky,
You’re scared again… But why? Maybe you like it, seems like fairy play…

You’re lost… You’re hair turned white, they held you in their arms again, you’ve banished them…
Won’t you pay another tax? I know you’re used to picking flowers, allglorious…
There’s a handsome ebony dwarf… Will you not mock him for a bit?
I like a folk song yet again… Forget the text afresh, I’m faking… And people frown, I paint anew… A factory on the horizon is what I see…

Indemnified or simple tramp? Let me give you a tip : Oh, wait, you’re broke… You don’t deserve it, I shall let you die-I have the right!
You can not count, you little boy… Why are you bald? Do you really think you are fairer this way? Your country is more fair by far! What do you mean by “which” ? Look, a Saint-Bernard is coming! Oh, it’s a Rottweiller, but it is shy… It will recover, so will your hand!

Wow, what a beautiful puppet you have chosen! Too bad it’s petty, it was a missionary’s neighbor… Who? What? It christianized? Escaped, you did, great thing you realized…
Species endangered cause of you, my goddess? Don’t look through your pockets…
What, a postnuclear canyon on the horizon? I like it, did you draw it? It sooths him well, should have made it pinker here… There you go!

Your life’s a thread, pathetic are thee, thus shall you die! Just kidding! You’re not capable of dying! I see carnivorous flowers on the scenery, that’s right, spray thyself with insecticide…
O, no, gorgeous, on your face you have a wrinkle! Go to the kettle of boiling oil, you know your lesson… Did you jog in your dreams today? You didn’t? Well how can disgust me without keeping fit? Where’s your respect for me? Yeah, there are plenty of berries in the forest! But they will cost you! I mean, is paper made from trees, or what? And I put the bark in the database, and with a dead athlete’s hard currency anew justice I bestow upon me!

Wow, what a fortress! From what period could it be? The period without concrete or ghosts? Who knows, I didn’t study hard at school, that’s why my stomach’s empty… Oh, not because I had forgotten to eat…

What? Tired already?!? I’d feel a bit ashamed, but I know me all to well… Giggled, did you, my fair? Oh, you don’t understand, you’re scared! And you, again you’re like a statue! I’ll cover thee, I know what’s right and wrong, and you all will listen to me! That is, unless you want it to be well… With sweet tears from an elf, I’ve made an ancient shower yet again… I want step on some rocks, I pity… I won’t hug angels, too disgusted… Again I’m humble, my last train is gone again… The next one will come! And I’m sitting in the station, I am not humble! And I await the camel, I can see it through the grid… Oh, what a bohemian platform, it has been so filled with filth… Awakening! Again you’re lit, my beacon! I belong to everyone and no one, and I’ll Love you forever, Child!

Novalis

The cream of paradisiac lubricates a pole,
Strongly he feels like a jackhammer now,
And rises his deformed sons to the sky,
A group of antiwall smiles to the tear-inducing voice,
Provokes indigestion to the train’s perfume,
Descends the pole and fathoms dreams,
Documented avorting and prespiting abysms,
Brick over brick, the vertical quick-sand platform,
Sits with a beggar’s dignity,
Dunes submerge into the brain, the desert’s storm spins empty in the soul,
The campaign to save a simulation,
With a noble placard the rhythm of the grill,
Tinkling of furniture announces the extension of an avatar,
Clothes pervaded with pulse
Instigate bowing to the only sea,
Interruptions of oases disturb the simfony,
Blinding a cryogenic chain’s link,
Ivory towers –counterfeit-
Reflect themselves in asbestos neighborhoods.

Watching with a baby’s imagination,
Each page heaven’s harps enlivening,
Like a purified rain I embrace serene my little angel Sahel.

Novalis

Graceful roses
Picked from an eyebrow
Of an angel with wings of fortune,
The stately Sky does send,
He, gentle stars shaper,
Lovely fairy painter,
To his sweetheart Sea,
Blazing dreams’ Mistress,
Playful thoughts’ Princess,
Of sweet ether minstrel on a shield,
Brings to the Prince with heavy-heart by flakes of lust,
The kiss of poetry’s sweet waves.

You can hear from remoteness,
A long form of estrangement,
In a forest where a citadel,
Without walls of smoke and glacial canons,
Tiny birds covered with feathers of sweet air,
Announce the gods watching over the world’s harmony,
Whatever mages or prophets believe,
Always hope for the better.
Sincere butterflies of rebirth
Coloured by bohemia,
Dance with serene flowers,
The myth of making our own Earth.

Suckled by the gentlest feelings,
Naked, covered, enthusiastic,
Two off-springs of innocent dream,
Twinkling immortality in life,
Making worth it Cupid’s strife.
Two solar drops, children they are themselves,
They themselves do have a child.

Shining with a new Moon,
Happy hyacinth’s laugh,
Eyes that are pervade with wisdom,
Wondering freely with his linden tree friend,
Playing with a goodness rhythm, listening
And appeasing the Wind’s artistic lust,
On Night’s celestial cords stroking sparkle of song.

Just in parts forgetting Nature,
And creating hordes of gods,
Is a being that kills,
Out of cruelty its off-spring.
It kills him with advice,
Restrictions, counsel deaf
To his sweet innocence and gentle heart,
It teaches him that to be human is to be selfish,
To compete, with winning nothing,
That man is created bad by Nature,
Nonsense, She makes him good!
And if she gives him a soul-mate and the blessing of a Child,
Is so the world won’t perish with a smile evil and mild.
Everybody teaching him that the others enemies are,
That, he can not comprehend, cause he doesn’t have life’s cancerous scar,
“Life” – A lie ordered by cruel, perfidious minds!
The worse crime is,
The biggest of the sins,
Is to teach the one that isn’t
To be serious, mature,
And for that clear evidence : The world is hell!
For you have forgotten, maybe with a lot of help,
What it means to be a human, to be your own God :
It means to be a CHILD.

Novalis

Sweet whispers of fairy-tale,
On life’s revelry,
Bohemian song of stars,

Fall on the shoulders of an emperor angel.

Helmet he makes out of dreaming,
Sword he has a spring of pearl,
Shield he makes himself from Love,
His diadem-crown green fir of immortality.

And he searches in amazement,
Flaming stars of myth,
In a land so far away,
Death’s a monastery’s queen.

Considered brilliant,
Much to righteous, by some saint,
Equalizing shaven heads,
Satisfying bones and led.

All praying like they pray,
Groping scent of light,
And thinking they are wise,
Model of walls they change.

But her, beautiful girl,
Eyes living the sea’s waves,
Lips with tender perfume,
Breasts logos’ gift.
With her face of angel clay,
With the boldness of empire,
And truly wanting
Never to see monks again,

Like Eros to Aphrodite
Instantly he takes a liking.

Fly away, celestial sparkles,
Over planets and seasides,
Through seraphims and cascades,
Over eternities and eminence.
Oh, my lack of life’s Undine!
Oh, sweet gold Silphyd!
My blue flower of lust!
On your burning marble let rest this thought of mine!

She smiles and caresses him,
Through his forest of sincere
Playfully she wants to wonder.

His armour of reason
From his body she seeks to abide,
With his gentle angel breath agile she wants to fly.

And in his embrace,
Sweet rivers of elements,
She loses the dream of sadness,
The convent’s memory is lost.

And given its Freedom,
The convent became a fortress,
With towers of happiness,
Stones of kindness,

Love is now the queen,
Mighty Peace is emperor.

Novalis

In the Night’s blond plaited hair,
Supple constellations,
Succeed in songs of seven,
Over the shoulders of whisper.

Gentle Eros is in armour,
From a lily’s devout fountain,
Little sparrows on his face,
Sacred eyes begin to purl.

And with the thirst of dreaming,
He heads towards the wall,
Guarded by hordes of regrets,
Grey specters in minarets.

Zamolxis on a crusade,
Passing through cords of cascade,
Swarms of meteorites,
His fiery voice does send.

Enter in the land chosen,
By the Princess of Chaos,
Golden soldiers of hope,
Against cynicism armies.

On a meadow sits Iunona,
With her crown of lorenth,
The blue song of the clouds
On the summit of a butterfly’s son.

Petting a ewe lamb,
Her fleece carnation play,
With the fire in her eyes,
Beaming valleys of fortune.

Apollo laughs from his harp,
Bloom of logos he inspires,
And his psychedelic blood
Flows in galaxies like an angel.

On his cheeks of ardent wind,
Colouring lights from a Sphinx,
His hands embossed in talent,
Creating ruby castles.

His crystalline lusts,
Memories of blue undines,
He depicts on skies,
His harp’s sugar telling.

And drinking from cups of fog,
Sweet life of dreaming
Prologues gentle mirific,
Revealing ancient teachings.

In boreal scenery,
Mirroring green sanctuaries,
Rotund gates of emerald,
Rooms twinkling and warm.

On the horizon nightfall crosses,
Coloured by demiurges,
Long silver adornment,
Thousands and thousand stars of court.

Flowers in sweet embrace,
The dawning of dancing grace,
On serene lips of the sea,
Innocent kiss of delight.

Trough sweet games of truths,
Forgetting the desert and haze,
Under foreheads brightening laurels,
His tears of deepened gold.