Passing through the state of this soul
flow possible existences,
a deadly fishing net pulling them all,
leaving only absences.
I leave on the spot this complexion
and lull it, and freeze it, and keep that
in the pure suspension
of what had never come and coming yet.
Nothing stays itself any longer
than just very singularly once.
Nor am I guilty to live
in a world changing at all times.
If I turn but one thought away from you
I then find behind me nothing at all.
I bear witness on this down on my knees,
words for no ear I hoist.
In my heart the stone decays,
I stay at the center of some borders ever shifting.
Surely I must be a word
laid upon your tongue sleeping.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
