Poems by Niculina Oprea

dance

between sleep and unfulfillment

I dance at the edge

of the circle of flames.

oh that my rubber arms

would at last take fire!

the tombstone I always carry

I wrapped in the gift-shroud

from my family,

they expect something from me,

I’ve no idea what.

translated by

Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan

the golden triangle

as I open the window

another day’s arms embrace me,

I sell myself to a different sort of sleep

that waits in ambush.

on the back of the page

lines scattered at random

stab my eye,

my brain

my heart.

the golden triangle

its points fully engorged

will be sniffed out

by bloodhounds from the wasteland.

translated by

Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan