Niculina OPREA


At the Definite Rapprochement

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The Nightingale`s Night-Hole

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Another sense

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The Heart of the Queen

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The Lives of the Others and Our Lives

Translated by: Lavinia Puflea

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Not the passion,

nor the heresy,

nor the wedding ring incised into the flesh, deep down,


nor the agglomeration between the crown and temples

can remove the moment`s joy

to share, at birth, the blood

with my daughters.


The church within has fallen down.


Only a divinity can rise me

from the body`s shadow under the eyes

of the ingenious juggler who juggles

from one side to another the lie with a face

of a princess,


love which tastes of ashes,

words colder than a lizard`s tail.


I want to sponge out my memory, God,

but somebody keeps stealing the fine sponge from me.


I breathe all the way this religion.

My own life is hanging

on the humiliation`s lucidity.


Total resignation,


leprous sleep and memory as a she-wolf

waiting to give birth...


Serenity will fly to other evenings.


From unimaginable angles,

inconceivable springs will quench the thirst of dust

that I shall be.


When he will come,

he’ll find the shadow of the bride I was,


he’ll find the trap in which I mixed

the lives of others with the lives of ours.

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