Two Poems

  • MIRCEA DAN DUTA

 

Silent Night II (There, at the Final Station)

I’m not going to be your Christmas Tree.
I won’t allow you to cut me off my roots with your human axe,
to steal my dead body from the forrest,
to bring it to your warm & cosy
human home,
to fasten it next to your warm & friendly
human oven,
to put on it some immaculately white
human dress,
to make it your beloved
human bride
and to replace my mortal wild existence
in the pagan forrest with a
human life
that may become immortal
after my next
human
death,
if I manage to avoid human temptation
to what you call sin,
blah, blah, blah.
I am not going to be your Christmas Tree.
It’s about time for you to learn
Christmas Tree is a Gender Neutral,
not a Feminine,
and for sure not a Common Noun.
A Christmas Tree just doesn’t feel like being decorated
according to your taste.
A Christmas Tree just doesn’t feel like being decorated.
A Christmas Tree just doesn’t feel like being someone’s
Christmas Tree,
A Christmas Tree just doesn´t feel like being
a Christmas Tree at all.
For you, a Christmas Tree is just a pretext
for keeping alive the illusion
of being able to make something more beautiful than it was.
But how could you embellish
something you killed in order to embellish?
How could dead beauty
add beauty to a beauty
that is already dead?
I am not going to be your Christmas Tree.
I won’t become the topic
of some stupid human stories of yours.
And if on Christmas Day you find me lying down on the sidewalk,
buried under the snow
that has fallen the whole night
on the little square
at the final stop of the city train,
remember I have never been your Christmas Tree,
for I choose to be someone else’s.
Nevertheless,
if you really care so much about Christmas Trees,
you can always buy yourself an artificial one
and order a personalised Christmas
during the first week of January,
before the death of the Three Wise Men.

 

Vector Addition

I am the one that is only equal to itself,
but different from its own identity,
I am the one breaking the balance of the landscape
seen with both eyes
I am the one adding an a before the word symmetrical,
I am the one because of which one can’t say one’s prayer until the end,
for I am neither the Father, nor the Son and I’m not allowed to pretend
I’d represent something holy, let it be a spirit or a ghost.
I am the one nobody wants to have children with,
even if I were able to give birth to children.
I am fat when anyone else is white,
I am black when anyone else is clever,
I am stupid when anyone else is brutal,
I am oversensitive when anyone else is slim,
or by reverse,
I was not born a woman, even if everyone else is able to become one,
or by reverse,
I am the Different one, different from you, different from her, different from him,
I am the Unlikely one,
I am the Third one,
so don’t tell me I’m beautiful, for you know I’m not
and I know I am.

(Translation into English: Judit Antal)

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