Poezii

Nicolae Sirius The earth under black boots Here is the earth under black, now under blue, And again under striped boots. Mahalaha! When he was not He was believed to have worn the sign of the cave On his ring, but he carried his sword In a sheath. With a head chock-full of snow He wanted to be the bridle bit. In those days, Time was quite like he. For a long time poems were etched on the black Stubble fields. A pretext: Mahalaha was not. Here is the earth under Turkish, under German, And under Hungarian feet. Did the burial-crosses Predate them? Here the earth is ablaze. Nero is fiddling in a dream While the tusk of elephants Scrape the steel of the gates of Troy. The earth is narrow, concealing deep reasons. Here is the earth under black, under striped, Under boots swollen with blood. Short legs Long legs, sitting astride. Legs further Parted, astride. Are you asleep, dreaming? Will the crosses on the graves rise To defend your composure? Mahalaha: Is he a dream? Poetry page