Despre fluturi
Poate că poezia este un moft al
celor care au foarte mult timp
la dispoziție
poate că poezia este o scuză
când nu ți-ai îndeplinit dorințele
așternute cu grijă pe hârtie
în careul „urgente și importante”
poate că poezia e ceea ce ai de spus,
dar psihologul e plecat în concediu
și nu ai bani de spovedanie
Pentru toți cei care nu au ajuns
pe Câmpiile Elysee
în ciuda tuturor străduințelor
poezia e un panaceu al speranței
al lui „ai răbdare și se va împlini”
permisul de trecere la porțile vanității
către necunoscutul zilei de mâine
cu tăceri printre rânduri
acolo fluturii lui Morfeu
poposesc și așteaptă.
About Butterflies
Maybe poetry is a whim of those
who have far too much time
on their hands.
Maybe poetry is an excuse
when you have not fulfilled the desires
carefully laid out on paper
in the “urgent and important” box.
Maybe poetry is what you have to say
when the therapist is away on vacation
and you cannot afford confession.
For all those who have not reached
the Elysian Fields
despite all their efforts,
poetry is a panacea of hope,
of “be patient and it will come true.”
A pass through the gates of vanity
toward the unknown of tomorrow,
with silences between the lines.
There, Morpheus’ butterflies
alight
and wait.
Για τις Πεταλούδες
Ίσως η ποίηση να είναι μια ιδιοτροπία εκείνων
που έχουν υπερβολικά πολύ χρόνο
στα χέρια τους.
Ίσως η ποίηση να είναι μια δικαιολογία
όταν δεν έχεις εκπληρώσει τις επιθυμίες
που έχεις προσεκτικά καταγράψει στο χαρτί
στο πλαίσιο «επείγον και σημαντικό».
Ίσως η ποίηση να είναι αυτό που έχεις να πεις
όταν ο θεραπευτής λείπει διακοπές
κι εσύ δεν μπορείς να αντέξεις οικονομικά μια εξομολόγηση.
Για όλους εκείνους που δεν έφτασαν
στα Ηλύσια Πεδία
παρά τις προσπάθειές τους,
η ποίηση είναι πανάκεια ελπίδας,
ένα «κάνε υπομονή και θα γίνει».
Ένα πέρασμα από τις πύλες της ματαιοδοξίας
προς το άγνωστο του αύριο,
με σιωπές ανάμεσα στις γραμμές.
Εκεί, οι πεταλούδες του Μορφέα
ακουμπούν
και περιμένουν.