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From the volume “Tales and Poems for Light in the 21st century” by Gabriela Anderson

THE VEIL

Wrapped in her veil of light and stars,

The girl turned on her heels

And spoke as she walked out of mesh:

“The emeralds of forests fresh,

The wild glade of my dreams,

You cannot buy with all your cash,

Nor can you win on paths of flesh

The palace of my whims…

For, far from lush intent, it mars

The thieving hands beyond the pale.

For God is Father to the nymphs

Who took upon His veil.”

The beauty of the light divine,

From centuries within,

Has reached the steam, the trains, the might

Of irons, silicones, and steels,

And bent the routes of glossy flight.

The gentleness of mighty hymn

Spread blessings on fast meals

And mingled with the daily right

Of gentle hearts to peace.

It was a day of sunshine bright

When the frail girl said “No”

Wrapped in her veil. A modest flight

While God beheld her in His sight

Sheltered from what is foul.

But at the gates a flame arose

Protective like a wall, though thin,

From strengths of centuries within,

To guard the temple of the soul,

To keep it clean in ardor still

To keep it tall like the green hill,

Immutable in an old pose,

Unbending like a silver spine,

Brave and alive while it beholds

The beauty of the light divine.

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2 poems by Gabriela Anderson, published in the International Notebook of Poetry, LiterArt XXI, GA

MORNING AT THE WINDOW (for the students killed in Bucharest in the 1989 revolution)

Along the streets

lamps died out in a row

The trees

green twigs and leaves

smell May fresh.

In the shade of a van

a girl’s thin body is becoming a bow

in the arms of her man.

Tall gables and dust

Gardens

one, two, three —

Memories and rust

camps of dispair

The Royal Palace

Must

Be

Ours!

In the shade of a tree

a girl’s body grows flowers

in the arms of her man.

Kiwi and French pie

Pieces of exotic dreams

still lie

on stone market stalls

A beggar falls

under the hymns

of the journalist’s pen.

In the garden of whims

a girl’s body is buddying

in the arms of her man.

Our Father will pardon

(Candles: one, two, three)

The cupola covers

an innocent statement

the quick men’s debates

the air vibrates

from bullets

PPfheeee….

In the Botanic garden

the howl of a dog intonates

an old Byzantine lament.

White lamps are dead in the sky.

In the dim halls of fears

a girl’s body drops petals

like tears.

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SONG

And you see

The rains of June were my bridal veil,

A spray of lightening diamonds

The rains of June when they came with the odor of lime-tree

and moss,

a breeze and a sail,

on the ocean of loss,

raindrops burning the roof of the haunted houses

for me,

and a spray of lightening – diamonds

as my clothes…

How many times did you see

the wedding of ice and heat?

the rains of June through an open window?

How many times in one life

did your heart beat?

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First 2 stanzas of “Watercolor” by Ion Minulescu (Bucharest, 1920), and the 1st stanza of “Echo-free romanza” by Minulescu

translation from Romanian by Gabriela Anderson

copyright protected

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“In the city where the rains fall

three times every week or so

City dwellers on the sidewalks

Hand in hand will gently stroll.

And in this most rainy city where three times a week it showers,

City dwellers on the sidewalks

with old wet moaning umbrellas,

overwhelmed by so much pouring,

Look like manequins in motion

exiting stores at high hours. (…)”

“În oraşu-n care plouă de trei ori pe săptămână

Orăşenii, pe trotuare,

Merg ţinându-se de mână,

Şi-n oraşu-n care plouă de trei ori pe săptămână,

De sub vechile umbrele, ce suspină

Şi se-ndoaie,

Umede de-atâta ploaie,

Orăşenii pe trotuare

Par păpuşi automate, date jos din galantare.(…)”

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Love, home-décor of porcelain, dear,

An ephemeral existential self,

Once more I find you on the same high shelf

On which I left you no less than last year.

(…)

“Iubire, bibelou de porţelan,

Obiect cu existenţa efemeră,

Te regăsesc pe aceeaşi etajeră

Pe care te-am lăsat acum un an…”

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