Poezii
Romanian Voice
Nicolae Sirius
The Hunt

Ion, Johann, John: the deaf idol;
Fool, villain and prince.
Ion, Johann, John embraced the entire terrestrial
Globe. Martha wants to get married?
Do not cause any hindrance.
Ion, Johann, John is at the gates?
Is he the angel, wings spread, ever anticipating?

Bring me my garments, dear, and my last
Book. That name again? Never mind, don't tell me
About him, or about Martha.
You say a hill drowned? It died slowly,
Gulped up by the bedrock of the sea
Without ever having been sick.
Did it sink slowly?

Never mind, let it go, my dear, pass me
My coat: the tally-ho of the hunt breaks the air.
What is your purpose? Look at the base of the lake;
Mourn the hill, if you can. Mourn the hill, I say,
But leave me alone!

Please pass my coat.
Martha again? Do let her wed!
Why now these tears? Bring me my bow and my
Arrows. I'll chide you if you don't bring my map,
Too. The sky is almost obscured.
The hunters are leaving
And you still keep unbuttoning my sentimental
Buttons, in the clutch of your full strength. Now
Please understand; the sun has run its hard
Course; the hunt has commenced.
My bow is all that I wish.


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