Romanian Voice
Nicolae Sirius
Ancient Lay About Night

Night before a window
The Sun in her arms,
He panting for life. My child
Is dying, she cried. The Sun
Trembled: the face
Of a bearded old man alternated
With the smile of a child. His eyes
Were masked by the deep waves
Of a cloud. Kill him, a voice murderously
Whispered. The dark of the lawn
Shivered its thistles.

And the Night
Flung the Sun towards me. Stealth
Has delivered my child to this place,
His father unknown. Let us strike
Before he waxes to strength;
And let us waltz in midnight merriment.

What if it is my son, I wondered;
What if I kill my very own self? Let us
Dance, cried the Night, let us do
The kid in. And then a knife
And my hand and the blood
Of the Sun.

Puddles of blood on the floor
Staining the boots of the dancers.
And Night, dancing, pitched coils
Upon coils of herself round the walls.

Poetry page