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2012-05-11 | | Submited by Veronica VÄƒleanu
A moment of wax comes about
When we are just summoned out
And, of course, we never come back again.
Thatâ€™s about all of it. Then,
As we already know,
Weâ€™re beginning to flow
In milky mists through a moat
With rhomboidal dedecahedrons afloat
Right at the centre
Is the Word: not a doubt!
With landscapes scrawled out
And barefoot girls crossing the railway line
In a direction crystalline.
Afterwards, far away,
Stealing between heat and decay
Railwaymen with a chocolate veneer
Or other sorts of of beings disappear,
Among a host of pleasurable wires,
Urged by commands and desires.
And weâ€™re standing aloof by the wash-bowl
As we watch how they rinse up the new soul.
-translated by Florin Bican
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