Liviu Ioan Stoiciu. CLP

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu
Born in Romania
Nscut n Romnia
Parallel Texts
Translated into English by
Leah Fritz
Edited by
and
Lidia Vianu
Ioana Bue
ISBN 978-606-8592-52-7
The University of Bucharest
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu
Leah Fritz
Ioana Bue
Cristina Ioana Young for the photographs
Cover and overall Layout: Lidia Vianu

Subediting: Alexandru Tudor
Proofreading: Ioana Bue, Alexandru Tudor
Illustrations: Cristina Ioana Young
IT Expertise: Simona Smulescu
Publicity: Violeta Baroan
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu
Edited by
Lidia Vianu
Born in Romania
Nscut n Romnia
Parallel Texts
Translated into English by
Leah Fritz and Ioana Bue
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

Born in Romania. Nscut n Romnia. Parallel Texts
Table of Contents
Lidia Vianu: Aux Portes de lOrient
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

Born in Romania. Nscut n Romnia
p. 4
p. 8
Archaic Mothers. Mame arhaice

Hey, Little Angel, Little Poison Sumac. Mi ngera, mi buruian de venin
The Shadow. Umbra
The Souls Abundance. Abundena sufleteasc
The Mystical Eye. Ochiul mistic
p. 9
p. 11
p. 13
p. 15
p. 17
Souls Wanderings. Peregrinrile sufletului

What Keeps Us from Lagging Behind. De care ne desparte un decalaj n timp
From Chaos to Cosmos. De la Haos la Cosmos
Contemplative. Contemplativ
A Struggle. O zbatere
Lost. Pierdut
Stigma. Buba rea
p. 19
p. 22
p. 24
p. 27
p. 29
p. 31
p. 33
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

2
Oh! Ehe
Whats Left? Ce i-a mai rmas?
Arbours. Boli
Saturday around Here. Smbt, dnd trcoale pe aici
The Bag of Cherries. Punga de ciree
The Rains. Ploile
Approaching a New Separation. La o nou desprire
Snail Race. Trec melcii, trec
The Wonder-Maker. Fctoarea de minuni
The Verdict. Adeverirea
Deluged with Daily Stupidity, Worn out. Obinuii cu prostiile zilnice, tocii
Bad Sign. Semn ru
From one Place to Another in the Ditch. din loc n loc pe terasament
Dead Road. Drum stins
How to Tie the End of a Yarn Ball to Your Front Door. Cum se leag un capt al ghemului la intrare
How Green Youve Become. Ce ai nverzit
Museum Transformed into a Church. Muzeu transformat n biseric
Herself, a Vestige. Ea, un vestigiu
A Perch. Loc nalt
In Everyday Life. n viaa de toate zilele
Im Also Leaving you My Guardian Angel. i las i ngerul meu Pzitor
He drank Warm Mercury. A but mercur nclzit
The Metaphysical Machine. Maina metafizic
A Walking Church. O biseric mergtoare
p. 35
p. 39
p. 41
p. 43
p. 45
p. 47
p. 49
p. 53
p. 55
p. 57
p. 59
p. 60
p. 62
p. 65
p. 67
p. 69
p. 71
p. 73
p. 75
p. 77
p. 79
p. 81
p. 83
p. 85
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

3
Give a Drink to the Thirsty Ones. A da de but celor nsetai
Why? De ce
p. 87
p. 89
Information about the Poet

Information about the Translators
Information about the Illustrator
p. 90
p. 95
p. 97
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

Aux Portes de lOrient
Am putea spune c Liviu Stoiciu s-a nscut poet. S-a nscut

n nordul Moldovei i a copilrit pe lng calea ferat. S-a fcut
mare i a scris o carte despre copilrie i trenuri, intitulat La
fanion. Cartea a aprut cnd avea el 30 de ani, adic n anul 1980.
Era vremea celei mai crunte cenzuri i terori ideologice n
Romnia. Era i prima lui carte.
Am putea spune c Liviu Stoiciu este n primul rnd poet,
dei el a scris i roman, i teatru, i publicistic, i este de mult
vreme chiar redactor, la revista Viaa romneasc, o revist care
are peste o sut de ani de existen.
Am putea spune c a studiat filologia i filozofia.
Toate acestea sunt simplu de spus.
Cum am face, ns, s spunem ceea ce suntem obinuii, noi,
romnii, s citim printre rnduri? Ceea ce scap cu siguran
occidentalului trit n alt spaiu dect aceste Pori ale
Orientului ou tout est pris la lgre?
Ar trebui s explicm de ce, la 18 ani, dup primvara de la
Praga, atunci cnd Cehoslovacia a fost invadat de URSS
It might be said that Liviu Stoiciu was born to be a poet.

He was born in a village in northern Moldova, and spent his
childhood in the vicinity of trains, living in a cottage at the
flag station. He grew up and wrote his first book, which was
about childhood and trains, and which he entitled The Flag
Station. The book was published when he was 30 years of
age, in 1980. Those were the years of censorship and
ideological terror in Romania.
It might be said that Liviu Stoiciu is first and foremost a
poet, although he has also written fiction, drama,
journalism. For a long time he has been editor of a magazine
called Romanian Life, which is more than 100 years old.
It might be said that he studied philology and
philosophy.
We could easily list all these things.
On the other hand, it might be impossible to explain to
Westerners that the meaning of all literature written under
communism lies between the lines. It takes a Romanian to
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

5
mpreun cu toate rile membre ale Pactului de la Varovia, cu
excepia Romniei, Liviu Stoiciu a plecat la armat voluntar.
Erau anii cnd stagiul militar era un alt fel de nchisoare, de care
scpa fiecare cum putea, ori n-avea noroc i l fcea n ntregime.
Doi ani a stat poetul pe meterezele rii. Ce a realizat fcnd
acest gest? Numai un occidental ar pune o astfel de ntrebare.
Un romn nscut i trit n Romnia comunist ar spune
laconic: este o fire incomod, o fire n rspr. Liviu Stoiciu a
ieit din rnd de foarte multe ori.
Mai nti, i-a fcut facultatea pe apucate, cu ntreruperi de
luni, de ani de zile. Dar a terminat-o. Din nou, numai cineva care
a terminat facultatea n Romnia anilor 70-80 poate s tie c pe
atunci se primea o repartiie obligatorie la un post care, dac
nu aveai pile ori o medie de absolvire foarte mare, nsemna
foarte adesea, cel mai adesea, la ar. La ar nu era un spaiu
bucolic de nfrire cu natura: era srcie lucie i, din nou,
mizerie de pucrie.
Posturi a avut Liviu Stoiciu. Mai multe dect douzeci de
romni la un loc. Explicm din nou: tot romnul ncepea cu un
post i nu-l schimba dect dac ardea ara. Dac nu ardea, edea
la locul lui, i lua salariul de la stat c din alt parte nu avea
cum, nu exista alt angajator dect statul i ieea la pensie de
unde a nceput. Altfel ddea mult de bnuit.
Liviu Stoiciu a fost pe numrate profesor suplinitor,
understand another Romanian who is living aux Portes de

lOrient, ou tout est pris la lgre.
Why did Liviu Stoiciu volunteer to join the army at the
age of 18, after the Prague Spring, when Czechoslovakia
was invaded by USSR together with all the countries that
were members of the Warsaw Pact, except Romania? Those
were the years when military service was no better than
prison, when every young man did his best to avoid it. Our
young poet was a soldier for two full years. What was the
use of that foolish gesture? A Westerner would wonder
about that.
Anyone born and bred in communist Romania would
simply say: he was a misfit, an odd bird.
It took him a while to graduate. He did that with long
interruptions, which was highly unusual at the time, but he
did graduate in the end. Only someone who graduated in
Romania in the 1970s or 1980s will know that the system
compelled ex-students to take a job in the country. Life in
the country in those days was no exactly idyllic: it involved
poverty, and, again, it felt like prison.
As for jobs, Stoiciu worked in more places than twenty
Romanians put together. He was substitute teacher, miner,
accountant, proofreader and journalist, construction
worker, worker in factories.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

6
miner i vagonetar n subteran (la Blan-Harghita i DljaPetroani), calculator-contabil, corector i ziarist (la Miercurea
Ciuc, la Informaia Harghitei), arhivar, expeditor CFR importexport, magaziner, normator transporturi auto, zilier, primitordistribuitor, antierist, muncitor necalificat (inclusiv la o fabric
de coniac), ncrctor de vagoane de marf, controlor de calitate
n siderurgie (la Bucureti).
Mergem mai departe cu existena lui n rspr. Copiii erau
n anii 70 fcui automat pionieri, apoi deveneau UTC-iti n
liceu, i muli (dar nu toi) intrau n Partidul Comunist Romn
n facultate. Era un parcurs firesc, dac voiau un post mai
actrii. Liviu Stoiciu n-a fost niciodat membru PCR, cu toate
c avea origine rneasc, cu toate c a fost muncitor acestea
fiind mari atu-uri n politica de cadre a unui stat de democraie
popular cum era Republica Socialist Romnia. Cineva
trebuie s-l fi invitat s intre n rnd cu lumea, i nu numai o
dat. Nu este de mirare, aadar, c n birourile puterii, a fost
catalogat de rezistent i opozant.
A czut puterea comunist creia, aa cum reiese din tot ce
am nirat pn acum, Liviu Stoiciu nu-i era de loc simpatic. A
venit anul 1989, cu asasinarea cuplului Ceauescu i ploaia de
noi partide, politici i guverne. n mod firesc, Stoiciu a fost luat
drept emblema disidenei i pus n guvernul nou-nou. Ct a stat
el n acest guvern din care unii n-au mai vrut s ias pn n ziua
It was fairly unusual in Romania to change ones job in

those days. One worked, one got ones salary from the state
nobody else but the state could offer jobs , and one
finally retired. You became very suspicious if you were
different.
In the 1970s, children were automatically enrolled as
pioneers. Later on they joined the Communist Youth
Organization in the same way. After that, some of the
students joined the Romanian Communist Party. It was
common knowledge: if you wanted a better job, you had to
be a party member. Liviu Stoiciu never was that. The fact
that he had been born in a peasant family, and had been a
worker in his youth must have been very agreeable to the
communist party. Somebody must have asked him more
than once to join it. Since he never did, he was labelled a
dissident.
Then 1989 happened, with the assassination of the
Ceausescus, the innumerable new parties, new politics, new
governments. When communism fell, naturally, Stoiciu
became a hero, and was included in the first new
government. Many of those to whom this happened are still
in office now, 25 years later. Stoiciu walked away from all
that after three months. Very soon, he wrote one book which
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

7
de azi, la 25 de ani de la acel moment? Stoiciu a fost om politic
trei luni ncheiate. Dup care a scris, n 1992, de pild, o carte
care se chema Jurnalul unui martor (13-15 iunie 1990, Piaa
Universitii, Bucureti).
Ar fi prea multe de explicat la acest punct. De ce nu a fost
lsat Regele Mihai s intre n ara lui n 1990? Cine a declanat
mineriada din iunie 1990 i de ce? Liviu Stoiciu nu s-a lsat
pclit. Disident era, disident a rmas.
Sigur, este foarte important c este i poet. Dar, aici, la Porile
Orientului, poziia lui de intelectual n rspr, convingerile lui
de copil crescut la fanion, buna credin a ostaului de 18 ani
nrolat voluntar n anul 1968 toate acestea capt un tlc
anume. Pe poetul i omul dintr-o bucat care este LIS, vremile
nu-l pot ndoi. El gndte cu capul lui. Poezia tot aa o scrie.
Publicm acum bilingv aceast carte de poezie n sperana
c poate va nelege i occidentalul ce lucruri anume nu putem
noi explica n istoria noastr i de ce nu putem. Cele mai
potrivite cuvinte pe care le putem spune despre Liviu Stoiciu se
regsesc ntr-un poem chiar din acest volum. Ele sunt: Nscut n
Romnia.
appeared as early as 1992, and was entitled The Diary of a

Witness (13-15 June 1990, University Square).
Can anyone explain for sure what the University
Square was all about? Why was King Michael forbidden to
enter his country in 1990? Who brought the miners to
Bucharest in order to punish the intellectuals in June 1990,
and why? Liviu Stoiciu was not fooled. Once a dissident,
always a dissident.
Certainly, it is unspeakably important that he is also a
poet. But we are aux Portes de lOrient. It is essential that a
child raised at the flag station trusted the momentary
freedom of 1968, and joined the army in order to protect
freedom. Time and tide have not broken that child.
We are publishing these parallel texts in both English
and Romanian in lieu of an explanation that the Westerners
need, and which Romanians do not seem to be able to
formulate otherwise. After all is said and done, the best
description of Liviu Stoiciu as a poet can be found in one of
the pooems in this very book: Born in Romania.
Bucureti, 21 June 2014
Lidia Vianu
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

Born in Romania
Nscut n Romnia
Parallel Texts
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

9
Mame arhaice
Archaic Mothers
mame arhaice, cu mtrgun

n sn, venind
pe apele singurtii. Cu laptele florii
cucului de pe cmpul cu
vi n gnd... Tulpin
archaic mothers, with mandrake

in their breasts, crossing
the waters of loneliness. Carrying
the cuckoos flower and milk from the country,
their thoughts in valleys... Broken
din copilrie rupt, izvor

din care duhul celui disprut a ncercat i azi s
m prind de mn: cu tine, bun
mireasm, ieit
la plimbare n
natur... Attea lucruri n urm i
fpturile: prea
mictoare, imposibil de prins n fotografie, ireale. Fpturile
pierdute n zare, n fa: care
stalk of childhood a spring

from which the spirit of one who
disappeared tried
today
to grab my hand while on a nature walk... So many things
forgotten; so many creatures lost: too fast,
they were, impossible
to film, unreal. Creatures already
too far in front,
already so far away: which one
i caui umbra? Nici un rspuns. La vrsta

mea, la amiaz, cu muchii
spinrii slbii, cu o baghet de alun gata s
peers at its own shadow? Silence. At my

age, midday, with a weakened spine, still
I carry a hazel wand
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

10
descopr o
comoar: emoionat, pregtit s iau napoi ceea ce a
apucat s capete n pmnt, n
mormnt, o form de argint...
ready
in case theres
treasure; excited, alert to recall
what has almost begun to be buried... in
the grave, a silver figure.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

11
Mi ngera, mi buruian de venin
Hey, Little Angel, Little Poison Sumac
ncheiat n indril mrunt: prin schisme

i erezii, prin silnicie un
organism. Un organism fr destin, ciudat, npustit
asupra lui Dumnezeu, ca un uliu. Care
a reuit s se desprind de la pmnt i s
se nale cu un manuscris n gheare, dup ce a rsturnat
i a rscolit n ciubrul de lemn n care stteau
pielicelele de dihor n
tre de gru, drojdie i sare. nvluind
mprejurul, n colbul
cmpului. Mi ngera, mi buruian de venin,
cnt bunicul ezi blnd.
In the end, like a tiny roof-tile

indistinguishable from the rest through schisms,
heresies, assorted acts of violence a body. A body with
no destiny, bizarre,
rushing headlong toward God like a hawk. Which
managed to detach itself from earth, to rise,
manuscript in claws, once
it burrowed out the Russian polecats
hidden timbered nest, swaddled
in wheat bran, yeast and salt. And
all around, everything
shrouded in dust billowing from the field. Hey, little angel,
little
poison sumac,
the old man sang sit tight.
Bunicul, nvluit n colbul cmpului,

cmpului magnetic, brodat pe margini cu fir metalic i
cu dantel, gndind c n-ar trebui s
piard vremea la vrsta lui cu
Grandpa, dusty, too, in that very field that

magnetic field, fenced round
by lacy, filigreed barbed wire sits thinking, at his age, why
should he daydream time away: when even now
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

12
fantasme: dar un vaier mi ptrunde i acum
sufletul... n
a groan enters my soul... In
ceasul acesta de tihn. Bunicul, toropit, la

picioarele unei scri
astrale, n spiral: mi buruian de venin aude
cum l ajunge din urm ecoul,
mi ngera...
this moment of calm, Grandpa, sleepy

at the pinnacle of heavens
spiral staircase: hey, little poison sumac he hears
how the echo follows him
little angel...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

13
Umbra
The Shadow
Alt civilizaie. Umbra

a ceea ce am fost nu mai poate s dinuiasc
aa la nesfrit: o
lips de struin, venit poate cu vrsta, pe zi ce
trece o va transforma ntr-o
mn de vreascuri, cu siguran, unde-i
mai sunt oare mpnzite ruinele? Pdurile
venice? Valuri succesive de civilizaii. Ruinele
acum locuite...
That was another civilisation. The shadow

of our past cannot hang over
us forever. Down through the ages, day
by day, our steadfastness
may have drained away: this wishywashiness will metamorphose, surely,
into a heap of brushwood where will its devastation
spread? Into the everlasting forests? Wave
on wave
of civilisations gone their detritus
inhabited again.
Am fost o familie unit la

poalele unui munte. Munte
al ovielii.
Am fost? Acum 20.000 de ani. Dup
cum are s se dovedeasc, o
lumin alb. Cu feluri i chipuri de cuiburi
fcute din schelete a
sute i sute de tineri dinozauri. Din
Once we lived at the foot of a mountain,

a family united (Were we really?)
A mountain of indecision!
20.000 years ago, as
it will be proved under white light. With multifarious
nests built from the bones
of hundreds and hundreds of young dinosaurs. The duckfaced type. Hundreds and
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

14
cei cu cioc de ra. Sute i
sute de cuiburi aparinnd unor anomalii
magnetice? Pretexte. Pduri
i ruine, cuiburi
fcute din schelete, umbra
a ceea ce am fost.
hundreds of nests belonging to some

majestic
freaks? Excuses.
Forests and ruins, nests
made of skeletons, the shadow
of what we once were.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

15
Abundena sufleteasc
The Souls Abundance
Sub magia aceea dezorientat de pe vremea

toiagului popular nflorit. Instruii n artele de agrement,
mbrobodind nite pierde-var. Proi
i burtoi. Buni vslai
dar bolnavi. Vindecai de o zi pe alta cu
ajutorul florii de mucegai de pe
pine, pine ctigat cu sudoarea frunii...
Under the magical spell of decadent times

that flourished among those trained in the arts of fun, but
mystifying to some deadbeats
hairy, big-bellied sailors, good at rowing but diseased,
though cured from one day to the next with
bread mould a bread hard earned...
Hei, dintre voi, beivii, cine

i-a ancorat cu pruden corabia n faa
Crciumii
fantomelor? Nu noi, domnule erif, ci sirenele
probabil, nite fete
btrne, puse pe rele. Nu cred, ia haidei voi cu mine...
Hey, which one of you drunkards anchored his ship

in front of The Phantoms Bar so meticulously?
Not us, sheriff; the mermaids, probably,
some spinsters up to no good. I dont think
so, come with me...
Atunci au urcat cu toii s verifice care

este adevrul-adevrat, pe corabie, ridicnd
ancora. Pe corabie,
unde abundena sufleteasc era
Then raising anchor, they found out what

really, truly happened on that boat
overwhelmed by spirituality
And they floated until the sixth day when
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

16
dominatoare. i au plutit pn n a asea
zi cnd le apru la orizont
inutul
morii, rencarnat.
they saw on the horizon, the land of the dead

reincarnated.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

17
Ochiul mistic
The Mystical Eye
El vine de departe, de la nceputul

lumii, neobinuit de anxios. nfricoat i perplex, el
are rdcini ct mine, dezvluind, prin
numrul de inele, aspecte ale unei viei anterioare,
succesive. Pur
He comes from far away, from the beginning

of the world. Strangely anxious,
frightened, confused, his
origins like mine, show evidence of successive, previous
lives
by the number of his rings. That
i simplu? Trezit naintea rsritului, am

fcut fotografia unei fetie suite pe
o creang joas, care
astzi trebuie c e doamn respectabil,
la 93 de ani... Cine, dumneavoastr,
doamn? Eu. Sau
so? Rising at dawn, I

photographed a girl
sitting on a low branch of a tree. Today
she must be a proper lady of say
93. Who are you,
madame? Its me. Or
ea. C i bunica mea, via de vie agtoare, a

crescut pe un arbore. Arbore care i-a devenit so pn
la urm c, intimidat, ea i-a vrsat anume pe
rochie
prima ceac de vin, ndrgostit s
her. Because my grandmother, also

a climbing grape vine,
grew on a tree. A tree that became
her husband
in time because, in love, she spilled her first drink
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

18
aib motiv s se dezbrace,
spre fericit dezlegare...
over her dress, an excuse to be

rapturously naked...
Dezlegare a ochiului colectiv, pn

la urm. Ochiului
mistic, din interior, care vine de departe, de la nceputul
lumii, neobinuit de anxios.
in time she would be

accepted in the public eye
and in her own
mystical
eye,
an emanation
from far, far away
at the very beginning
of this strangely
anxious
world.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

19
Peregrinrile sufletului
mblnzit, mbulzit, gata s calci n
farfuriile
ntinse pe iarb, de hram, ipnd la
mine c de ce le sunt eu azi antipatic
trectorilor? Aa i
spusesem, c... inui amndoi strns de mn. Scopul,
tu, este de a ajunge la mijlocul
adunrii, n centrul
ateniei. Unde e format un careu,
impecabil: mncai, s
fie pentru sufletul celor mori... i
potrivi plria pe cap, se demachie rapid, fr
oglind: de ce te ceri tu
cu toi?
Souls Wanderings
Tamed
by the throngs, ready to smash
those dishes scattered on the grass blessed
by the churchs titular saint... scolding me,
why am I so hateful to passersby
today? So I told her that... we held each others
hands.
Purposely,
you must arrive
in the middle
of the meeting, become
the centre of
attention. If theres a queue, it will
be perfectly aligned,
so eat
and may the dead rest in peace... She
adjusted her hat and quickly
removed her make-up without
a mirror: why do you argue
with everyone?
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

20
La un pas, biserica, majestuoas: totul
e s nu ne pierdem curajul. Un milion de nebuni n
tine, iubito... Astzi
pe aici nu se mai aude dect fonetul
vntului prin ierburi i btaia ciocurilor ctorva berze
albe i negre cocoate
pe zidurile
labirintului n ruin... S ne ndeprtm.
One step away, that majestic church

everything
depends on our not losing courage a million fools
inside
and you, my love... Today
you can hear nothing but the lisp
of the wind in the grass and the knocking beaks
of white and black
storks perched
on the ruined
labyrinths walls... Lets leave.
ndeprtai de mister: ieii din

noi n exterior, recondiionai, a
rmas n urm clondirul i
clovnul
cu purcelul lui dresat... Tu
i mai auzi clipocitul
vrstei? i mai auzi... Am fost oare eu cu
tine, atunci? A fost altul... Noi, ei: stranii. C
Leave this mystery: remove

ourselves from the vicinity
of this refurbished church
they left behind
a bottle and a clown with his trained
piglet Can you still hear
time passing? Can you still
hear... Was I with you
back then, I wonder? It was someone else... Us,
them: the strangers. Because
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

21
se scriu mpreun cu degetul n praful
drumului... Ochii, nasul, gura. Micorai n
zare: mbriai, sub
greutatea sorii de mai dinainte, czui unul
altuia robi. Laolalt, unde e binele e
i rul.
they are writing together with their fingers

in the roads dust... Eyes, nose, mouth. Narrow
the horizon: Embracing beneath the weight
of predetermined fate, one of us
always
the others
slave. In the end, where there is good
there is also evil.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

22
De care ne desparte un decalaj n timp
What Keeps Us from Lagging Behind
n mpria strugurilor: pe
vremea aguridei, la
umbr sub
un dud, unde zeul i
schimb nfiarea. Neadormii, cnd ea, nesfrita
cutare... Ea
In the kingdom of grapes,

in sour-grape time, in the shadow
of a mulberry tree, where
the god
changes its appearance... Wakeful during the endless
search...
i corbul, stpn n cuibul su vechi,

croncnind: de aici pn
n vrf. Unde unii
se suie s-i
primeasc nvtura, ceva
irepetabil, nvtura ce o merit, se
suie, dar nu cu trupul: dintre cei care ascult. Iar
and the raven, master of its old nest,

cawing, from here to heaven... where some
climb up
to learn their lesson
(something unrepeatable the lesson they deserve);
they rise without their bodies,
those who listen... And
alii mnnc agude de pe jos, pline de praf: pcatul

ndoielii le
taie picioarele. Imagini de lemn li se perind
lor prin faa ochilor, imagini
others eat mulberries off the floor, covered

with dust; the sin
of doubt
cuts their legs. Wooden images fly
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

23
dezgolite de nvminte, cu inversiuni de temperatur i
sunt siguri c
toate acestea li se mai ntmplaser cndva.
before their eyes, non-didactic images, hot

and cold, cold
and hot... furthermore, theyre sure
all these things happened
once
upon a time.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

24
De la Haos la Cosmos
Traversm o perioad albastr, venit dup
o perioad gri: dup care va urma o perioad verde. i
nbui regretele. Traversm un nou prilej de lacrimi pentru
mame. Ce
credei? Mame ncorporate n strfunduri, strfunduri ale
inuturilor
noastre de suflet, n
care slluiesc zei,
mame influennd energia. Energia aceasta indicnd mai
degrab faptul c ele nu
au fost deviate nici o clip, n luntrul
inimii, de cmpul magnetic. Magnetic? Fr mister... Ele,
lsate doar prad
ntristrii, nelepte, dup ce
copiii lor au prins
gustul
rtcirii, riscul:
From Chaos to Cosmos
We are passing through a blue

period after
a grey period: Surely
a green age will follow. You
stifle your remorse. We are on
our way to
yet
another chance
for tears
in our mothers eyes. Dont you agree? Mothers
enfolded
in the depths the depths
of lands dear
to our souls where the gods
live
steeped in their
energy. That energy
is proof enough that never, not for
one single
moment, have their hearts
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

25
departed
from that magnetic place.
Magnetic? Of course...
Alone in those lands,
they hang on to their sadness, their wisdom,
while their children
reach out to catch
the golden ring of freedom,
and the risk:
o peregrinare oarecare i
riscul rtcirii fr sens. O nlare cu
machete de psri? Mari
impulsuri. Pn
ce vor fi descoperii peste trei mii, dousprezece
mii de ani n rocile
sedimentare, mame, machete
separat i copii, straturi, straturi, o parte meninui poate, cu
puin
noroc, n
bun stare, coninnd n ei toate cele necesare unei
viei
ulterioare... O deplasare de la est la
vest, conform cu
the risk of wandering on an endless,

senseless pilgrimage. Flying
like model planes? Oh,
the thrill
until
three thousand, twelve thousand
years theyre found, fossilised in sedimentary rocks,
mothers
separated from their children, layers
and layers apart, preserved,
with a bit of luck, in mint condition
(maybe) buried
with all the things that might
be needed in the afterlife...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

26
mersul
soarelui: astfel. Ce
A movement
from East to West, following
the progress
of the sun. What
spuneam? A, traversm o perioad albastr, venit

dup o perioad gri...
was I saying? Oh yes, we are passing through

a blue period, after
a grey period...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

27
Contemplativ
Contemplative
Adia un parfum primejdios, nemaicunoscut de el, care

i ruineaz nervii. Este
un parfum de demult, de demult. Parfum al unei mistice
solidariti autohtone, scpate
lui din vedere. C
It was unknown to him

the treacherous scent that plays
on nerves an old, very old, fragrance
of neighbourly, mystical solidarity...
Because
rbdarea lui se dovedise neroad n faa

morii: sincer, azi
va ceda. Cu subiectivismul lui istoric. Va
ceda, dar
cui? ie? Mie? Nu se poate: c eu sunt
cealalt. i eu sunt cellalt. Cellalt, nu sta n
pielea cruia m vezi. Cu
he lost patience
with death, truly, today
he would surrender. With all his ancient self-regard,
he vowed he would.
But
to whom? To you? to me? That cannot
be: I am
the other. Im someone else, too. Someone
else not this person in whose body
you see me now with
o pereche de ciree la urechi, cntnd: asear

fusei btrn. Contemplativ,
a pair of cherries on my ears, singing last night

I was an old woman. Thoughtful,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

28
parfumat, pe cnd ea i nfieaz trectorilor
roadele. i
nfieaz roadele, suficient siei. i nfieaz
snii. Repet. i nfieaz snii.
Suficient siei. Ea, care a contribuit la
agonia
civilizaiilor.
perfumed, she shows her fruits

to passersby. She exhibits her
fruit, all she has,
showing
her breasts. Repeat: She shows off her
breasts; she
who has made such
a vital contribution to
the agony
of civilisation.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

29
O zbatere
A Struggle
o zbatere n ceasul-public-seciune-prin-mireazmaflorii-din-salcm i o trecere cu vederea, din nchipuire

n realitate, a fluturelui total, nchisul
n ochiul-larv-de-foc-al-nebunieivizionarului
a struggle in the public clock section, amidst the scent of

acacias: scorning fantasy for reality, a butterfly sucked
whole
into the visionary madness
of the cocoons scalding
eye...
un timp tu vii la ntlnire,

viscolit n interior, s ocheti figurinele mecanice de tabl la
iarmaroc, n copilrie, la tir i s ctigi o sticl
mic de rachiu, ba chiar
te pretezi i la o melancolie, o tiere din rdcin a
rozei altoite, din grdinia cantonului feroviar:
for once you turned up at the meeting, blown inside,

shooting
mechanical dolls at the range as youd done in childhood,
winning
a miniature bottle of brandy
to soothe the blues away, or perhaps
a cutting from the rosebush transplanted in the railway
cantons
kindergarten:
o incizie n sufletul umanistului, eul, n sfrit i

un strop de clorofil din spin, spurcciune,
care se rostogolete, fantastic, i dup el, imediat un
an incision in the humanists soul (the ego) and at last

a drop of chlorophyll from the thorn,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

30
lan de bile, de sare i panglici, de frig i aripi
de pete i toate
sunnd
n aer
n curs continuu, elemente
ale dezavurii mele
dirt that rolls fantastic! and afterwards,

straightaway, a chain of beads, of salt and ribbons,
coldness and wings,
fish and everything beating the air,
a continuous chorus, echoing
my rebuke.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

31
Pierdut
Lost
s-a aruncat la pmnt i

a nceput s ipe. C m tem de mine nsumi, nu
mai pun baz pe nimic, sunt
pierdut C s-au ntors toate cu susul n jos, nu-mi
mai arde de nimic, nici s
m sinucid, nu mai am nici un apetit, ce voi lsa
eu n urm? Doar o umbr, care
se va nla Mai conteaz? Pot s-mi iau adio de la
mine, oricum nu m
he threw himself on the floor and shouted: Im afraid of

myself. I cant rely on anything.
I
am
lost...The world
is upside down. Nothing interests me, not even killing
myself. Theres nothing
I
desire. What would I leave
behind? Just a swelling
shadow... What does it matter? I
could tell myself
goodbye. I honestly dont know
mai recunosc. M-au pus s scriu ce voiau ei. Cine?

ia. De fric, am scris i am semnat:
Vale-Deal. Vale-Deal? Vale-Deal. C pe scri urcau
oameni njunghiai, din care curgea snge.
Cine m mai scoate din ncurctur? Poate cioara
who I am. They made me write

what they wanted. Who?
Them. Out of fear I wrote and signed
Valley-Hill. Valley-Hill? Valley-Hill.
Because of the stairs: There were stabbed people climbing,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

32
aia, o arat pe geamul deschis, hai la
tata, pui-pui. C vrea
s-i ia oule din cuib. Care cuib? Mare
tmpit: Domnu doctor,
cineva a nnebunit i-i taie pe toi n salon Att
s-a mai auzit, dup care
i s-a nchis gura, iar vizitatorii au fost anunai
oficial c a ftat ceaua.
bleeding.
Who will get me out of this snake pit?
Maybe the crow that beckons from the window, Come
to Daddy, come. Then: Look! he wants me
to take the eggs out of his nest. Which
nest, big dummy? Doctor,
someone went mad and hes
stabbing everyone in the ward...Thats all
that was heard. After that
his mouth was shut and the visitors
announced that the bitch
had officially whelped.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

33
Buba rea
Stigma
Situaia asta nu mai poate

continua! Lipsit de turn, ntrit de jur mprejur cu
contraforturi,
cu nvelitoare nentrerupt de indril pe
toat lungimea sa n
care fariseii in sfat! Pe seama unei replici prosteti.
Exilai. Sunt, totui, pe o insul, se
pot reabilita. Situaia
This situation cannot go on

a moment longer!
No tower, but bounded all around by buttresses,
shingled roofing its entire length... Thats where the
Pharisees like
to give advice (along their crazy lines). Exiled.
But theyre on an island; they are able
to return. This situation
asta are n ea un germen al disoluiei: haidei s

bem paharul de amar pn
la fund! i s o lum de la capt. Uraaa Dai ordin
trompeilor! Facei agheasm n
cas, inei sfintele
posturi. i s v nchinai. C am fost
abandonai de destin pe o
insul
contains a germ
of dissolution. Lets drink to the dregs
our cup of bitterness! And then begin
again. Hurrah!
tell the trumpeters! Put holy water in
the house, feast
and pray.
Did fate abandon us on an island,
fr viitor? Abandonai de destin. Pe o insul,
futureless?
Abandoned, yes, by destiny.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

34
lsai ai nimnui? Pui s descoperim zonele ncrcate cu
energie.
Uitai-v ce strlucitoare a mai crescut pe aici
buba rea.
On an island
all alone? Forced to find our own
areas of energy.
Look how bright a red
that stigma grew...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

35
Ehe
O IMAGINE A SUFLETULUI meu, din copilrie, este

i cmpia, numai miraj, din jurul cantonului, pe ari,
cnd vezi aa, pn la orizon, o linie de plutire, nu
tiu cum s spun, o ap fantastic, limpede, care
deformeaz obiectele (i le transform
n vin, gru i untdelemn... este?...): aici, Triton,
jumtate om, jumtate pete, sun din goarn, de cochilie i
strnete furtunile
magnetice iar tatl su, Poseidon, tras de cai de mare, n car alb, peste
valuri, nconjurat de delfini, st
rege, n mn cu tridentul su, numai
cutremur... aici,
corbiile, cu nou perechi de vsle (trgeau doi, pe
o banc), au ciocuri de bronz i
cine coboar, pe scri, din ele,
scoate purpur
din scoici...
Oh!
ONE PICTURE OF my SOUL from childhood is also

of that field a mirage, really
taken
from around the canton, in the heat,
where you can see below the horizon
a waterline. I cant put it
into words... a body of water, fantastic,
clear, that
transforms liquids (turns
them into wine, wheat, oil whatever?) Here
Triton, half-man, half-fish,
trumpets
from a conch shell, stirs
magnetic storms, while his father, Poseidon, pulled by sea horses, in a white carriage,
over the waves, surrounded
by dolphins,
stands like a king, brandishing his trident.
And earthquakes are
everywhere...Here are his ships,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

36
emblazoned with bronze beaks
and flaunting nine pairs of oars (two men
on each bench, paddling). Whoever leaves
descending the stairs
turns purple
from the shells...
EHE, I EDEA URIAUL, umbr, cu cincizeci de capete i
o sut de brae, la circ, la noi, acas, n cuc, n
leas (de cereale, goal vara), prostit: duminica, dup
ce ne ntorceam toi de la biseric, de la
Adjudu-Vechi, i ddeam o prjitur, acolo, fcut
de mama, o rnz i un mr pdure i el, atunci, o
dat prindea puteri i striga, de o speria
pe cantoniereas: ah, Cronos, ah, vino
s joci zaruri cu mine, s pierzi, b i
s te pui s nghii, iar, aici, n
halt, un bolovan, nfurat n scutece,
s m stric de rs, ah: c pe insul, n Creta, cu lapte
de capr i miere, aa, a crescut fiul tu, inspector, s
i ia tronul (de aur) i
s devie stpn n
ceruri,
fonind cenua
OH, AND THE GIANT SAT, a shadow

with fifty heads and
a hundred arms, in the circus in
our home, inside a stockade
made of cereal packs (empty because
it was summer). Then on Sundays, after we came back
from church in Adjudu-Vechi,
we gave him a cake right there,
baked by my mother a gizzard and
a wild apple, and he gained strength
and yelled so loud he
scared
a woman from the canton! Oh, Cronos, oh
come
and play dice with me, and lose, and then
start swallowing again (here in
this train-stop where we used to live) a rock
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

37
wrapped in nappies, to make us
laugh, oh, because on that Island,
in Crete, this is how
your son was raised, on goats milk
and honey, to become an inspector,
to steal your (golden) throne and become lord of the skies,
flicking ashes.
MI, DAR REPEDE MAI TRECI TU
prin rou,
cnind armele i uitnd
s inventezi vehiculul cu patru roi... i ce
era la un totem
al soarelui, pe atunci i ce trecere a vinului n oet, ehe... dar
melancoliile m lsau, mereu,
singur cuc uitat n coteul de rae, la Cantonul 248, n
brae cu
un borcan de dulcea, n halta CFR Adjudu-Vechi:
fceam de straj la linie (aveam
i an, de aprare, n jur... lucru mare, bre...), narmat
cu pumnal, sabie, topor, sgei, lance i cu
coif pe cap: ce m mai cutau ai mei... eu, e drept, adormeam,
cu fric, la
un moment dat i aa, transportat,
OH, HOW QUICKLY YOU MOVE

through the dew,
rattling weapons and forgetting to invent the four-wheel
drive...
and what
is that, a totem in the sun? Back then what
a transformation that was, turning wine
into vinegar,
oh... And
my despair that always goaded me toward
being a recluse was forgotten
in that duck-hutch (at 248 Canton)
holding a jam jar in my arms, in that CFR
Adjudu-Vechi train-stop. I
was guarding the line (I also dug
myself a trench - for
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

38
nelegeam, din ce n ce mai clar, de ce prinii ne trimiteau pe
noi, fiii lor,
la distracii, care cu vaca, pstori, care
pe bucat, la cmp, agricultori, cu spliga de corn: avea
acum loc, n lume, prima
diviziune
a muncii, doar... (chiar?)
security, a big thing, man...) armed

with a dagger, a sword, an axe, some
arrows, a spear and wearing a helmet on my head. How my
family searched for me (Its true, I fell asleep), fearing
some day I might be
stolen away.
Then I understood, more and more clearly,
why our parents sent us,
their sons, out to play, one with the cow (as if
he were a shepherd), one
with a hoe made of horn and a piece of land to tend like a
farmer... And one
who now has found
his own place in the world,
a first-class position...
(truly?)
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

39
Ce i-a mai rmas?
Whats Left?
st cu inima buhit, din ziua n care a fost sigur

c o parte din el a fost
prsit de Dumnezeu (Vale-Deal a verificat asta cu
hrtie de turnesol, glumind)
cnd, ameninat dinluntru cu pierderea minii, s-a
rupt de el nsui i a plecat,
amrt peste msur, i nu s-a mai ntors. Cealalt
his heart is full; it has been since

his certainty that God
abandoned part of him... (verified by Valley-Deal
with litmus paper only joking)... when inwardly
threatened by the loss of his mind, he
tore out that part of himself, never
to put it back.
Whats
parte rmas, cu inima buhit, l

ignor de atunci, suprat, e n continu prostraie:
vslete lent, epuizat, de-a lungul
rmului, privind cu
mil, pe furi, la lumea astral cum se destram,
c-aa, c pe dincolo. Ce i-a mai rmas?
left, with a heavy heart, he

ignored
from that moment on... upset
that its gone forever, he paddles slowly, exhausted, along
the shore, seeking some small mercy,
stealthily,
in the astral world, the world beyond... Whats left?
i strnge tmplele ntre mini, din cnd

n cnd. ncotro s o mai ia? n lipsa unui refugiu
care s merite, ateapt n fiecare clip s
fie distrus, primejdia e pe-aproape, vine din afar.
Now and then he presses his temples between

his hands: Where to go? Without a proper safe house
hes sure hell be destroyed. Every
minute danger
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

40
Norocul lui e c uit repede.
creeps up closer from out there...

Luckily his memory is short.
Numr i azi btile inimii, de ciud: pn adoarme.
Today again, annoyed,

he counted his heartbeats
until he fell asleep.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

41
Boli
Arbours
boli de vi, speran,

magie
a canopy of vines hope,

magic
pocalul e un filde la elefant i invers,

spectacol de circ, ha,
cine bea miresmele nfloritei trapeziste i
cine rmne n mini cu iasomie dac i spune: galantule
Heres a goblet thats an ivory elephant... and, look, vice

versa, a circus spectacle, ha... ! and he
inhales the sweaty trapeze artists
scent, his restless hands
clutching jasmine
(in case youd refer to him
as a gentleman)...
toamna, la 7 dimineaa oamenii au stri de balans,

fiecare duce un sclipt, o gravitaie, n subcontient:
am pus muzica... (aceasta e fondul iar forma:)
in Autumn, at 7a.m., peoples moods are

calm, every face cosmetically aglow to mask
their inner
uneasiness
I put some stylish background music on...
picul de rou cade s mbrace snul tu
the bosom of your dress

glistens with dew drops...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

42
eu sunt, doar, un scamator gata s torn ulei de pr, acum,
s otrvesc bomboanele
din cutiile melancolicilor, mori de plictiseal la un ceai
dansant, unde stau
pe margine
perechi
i se uit unul
prin altul
exasperant, cum se uit omul nervos
prin fereti, afar, cnd plou
i bate din picior, tam
Now Im a magician ready to anoint you,

to poison the candles kept in boxes
by those who are bored
to death
at a tea party where couples sit on edge
looking through
each other, exasperated the way an angry person
stares out the window when it rains
and taps his leg, tam tee tam...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

43
Smbt, dnd trcoale pe aici
Saturday around Here
Cu ierburi de fcut farmece, atrnate

n vrful unei prjini de care se sprijin ct
sare grla timpului revolut, cnd secat,
cnd umflat, de la marginea
satului, dnd
iluzia c zboar prin aer pn
la picioarele tale, primvar, mplinind un
nou ciclu... Aceast zi de smbt. Aceast zi, ns, nu
fusese marcat cu nimic: eti
Magical herbs dangling from a bar

over which he leans across
the dried, flushed, sinuous
stream
of revolutionary time, here at the end of town. He gives the
illusion of flying through the air
to your feet its spring, the end
of a new cycle... this particular Saturday,
as yet unmarked by anything... Are you
teafr? Femeia
fatal din
fa, purtnd un al, i
mngie cu dosul palmei obrajii proaspt
brbierii: sfnt zi, s
nu dm deoparte nsufleirile. n
care drama noastr s devin inutil. Eu, tu i
toate luminile supranaturale din jur,
zpcite, care
n micarea lor de atragere a
partenerului traseaz
safe?
The irresistible woman in front of him, wearing a scarf, is
caressing his clean-shaven cheeks
with the palm of her hand: holy day, lets
not forget our joy or this dramas
wasted.
You, I, and all the heavenly lights around us,
stumbling,
try to invent loves perfection, draw
impossible boundaries against
the reappearance of
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

44
contururi: vestigii ale unei realiti
disprute...
reality.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

45
Punga de ciree
The Bag of Cherries
Punga de ciree din odaie, de pe

Mas, vrsat pe duumea, l chinuiete de cnd a
Fost s se pun pe picioare, trezit din
patul hotelului, dup ce
a visat c trebuie s o duc pe mama
The cherries in the bag that fell from the

Table in the room, scattering across
the floor, has tormented him
ever since he
decided to get up, awakened in his hotel bed just after
he dreamt that he must drive his mother
lui la cimitir, cu sania, bate n lemn i n grab, nenelegnd

cum de a fost posibil, vrsase
punga de ciree...
to the graveyard in a sleigh. He knocks on wood. Too rushed

to comprehend how it happened, he spilled
the bag of cherries...
Aude iar vicrelile mamei i sunetele rguite scoase de

caprele
care cutau de mncare sub
fereastra
lui! Doamne, dac
ar putea s o adune la loc, e o pung mare: ciree albe i
ciree nvineite, rsturnate,
semn ru...
Caprele, corpuri nebuloase, aprute n bolile organice
He hears again his mothers whine, the gruff sounds of goats

scrambling for food beneath
his window! God, if only
he could gather them all up, such a big bagful: white and
purple cherries, scattered...
Ominous.
The goats (hazy figures seen in
visions
in organic
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

46
cerebrale mncau
gunoaiele i ineau aleea curat. De cnd
brain diseases) ate

garbage and kept the alley clean.
Ever since
a fost s se pun pe picioare, trezit la realitate: i spintec

brusc
abdomenul. E plin de snge. Ce-ai fcut, cretinule! i
ine maele n brae, le scap. Vezi s nu calci
pe ele! E nconjurat de o
he was meant to get up, to awaken to reality: suddenly, he

cut his
stomach. He is covered in blood. What have you done, you
idiot! He
is holding his bowels in his arms; he drops them. Dont step
on them! He is engulfed in an
aur, n
stare de tensiune afectiv
pozitiv maxim, obsedat de cireele rsturnate, o pung: dup
ce,
cu o sear nainte, a
analizat orbitele primitive ale unor
comete.
aura, in
a state of maximum positive
emotional tension, obsessed with the dropped cherries, an
entire bag! Just yesterday, hed finished analysing
the primitive orbits of
some comets.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

47
Ploile
ploile, plocoane, pentru a te desfta,

czute din mintea mea, papagalicete
frig, zulufi, miros de benzin
The Rains
the rains godparents gifts for your delight

poured from my mind,
parrot-like:
cold; ringlets; stinking of petrol.
e fluierul potaului n piaa oraului, pustie,

s fie suflat s adune ceii
i e o burt a vistorului toba
pe care dnsul o bate o dat tam,
tam-tam, de dou ori i tam, n sfrit, s anune
viitorul
its the whistle that the postman blows

to collect stray dogs
in a deserted square,
e o capcan a luciditii
s i se aeze sufletul cea n faa propriilor ti
ochi i cear n urechi, s nu mai tii ce s crezi
cnd vezi frunza cum cade, obinuit i cnd
i auzi n subcontient degetele minilor
its a snare of lucidity

to fog up your soul before your
very eyes and your wax-stuffed ears
and to confound you
when you see a leaf
and its the belly-drum

the dreamers beating once tum;
tum-tum, twice; and a final
tum to herald
the future.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

48
pocnind la ncheieturi... oho,
e absolut totul, n lume, de la cel mai,
pn la cel mai,
o poezie
care trebuie scris...
fall as leaves do
and when
you hear
in dreams
the fingers of your hand
come apart at the seams... oh,
its everything in the world from the most
to the least,
a poem
that must be written.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

49
La o nou desprire
apstoare singurtate. Uittur cnd i

cnd, nluntru i nafar, nimic din ce ar putea
s-mi in de urt. Poate c lumina
dinafar nu ajunge s-mi arate adevrul. Dar lumina
dinluntru? Peste tot numai eu. Sau eu
nu sunt nicieri, de fapt? Oricum, nu contez. Rmn
ascuns. Tnjesc dup ce nu am acumulat
n suflet i ce ar putea s-mi consume altfel timpul.
C m pierd n nimicuri. Mi-ar plcea s
mut lumea din loc, sau mcar s-mi fiu mie nsumi
sprijin. Nu reuesc dect s m subminez
singur, s m duc la fund, nu s
m nal: ncetul cu ncetul, sunt convins, mi
voi pierde firea. Pe zi ce trece nu m mai in minte,
prefer ntunericul, dedesubturile lui. Pun
pariu c i amestecul chimic din mine e de vin, el
m duce n ispit, a putea
s nu m mai alimentez, s intru n greva foamei i a
setei bun, s intru, i ce rezolv? Ce
Approaching a New Separation
unendurable, this loneliness.

Wherever I search,
inside or out,
my isolation
is complete:
No one, nothing, anywhere
is there
for me.
Perhaps the suns
too overcast for truth
to shimmer through.
And when I look within... ?
everywhere Im still alone
unless... maybe...
Im really
nowhere at all?
Anyway, who gives a damn? I keep
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

50
a redescoperi? A ajunge astfel mai aproape de mine
nsumi sau m-a ndeprta? Sau ar
iei la iveal izvorul unor traiectorii nervoase din
pmnt, dup ce voi da colul? M
myself to myself, yet

how this barren soul of mine
longs for a passion
to fill these hours
exhausted with detail.
Oh, how Id like to shake the world!
(or shake myself at least
from this despair...)
demeaning myself, drowning
in a swirl of hopelessness, all
that rises
is my rage and that
nothing
can hold
back!
Each day
I lose myself a little more,
prefer the dark, the depth of it,
fail to remember
who
I was.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

51
It must be chemical, I tell
myself, something I consumed.
So what would happen if
I went on strike? refused
food or drink what then?
What would I find? Would
I shut down altogether or
at last
break free?
What if the final doorway
to this prison slammed, buried
me alive? Then might some latch
an exit that, in my anxiety, I missed,
suddenly spring open after my death?... I
vd trecnd iar cu o biciclet prin faa mea, n prima

tineree, tulburat, mi fac semn i
m opresc: salut, Vale-Deal! Salut? Ce mai e i asta?
O nou desprire? Linitete-te, nu e dect
o reacie n lan a unor lungimi de und din univers.
see myself, a troubled child, riding a bike,

warning myself to stop. Hey whats this?
So many hills and still another valley
to descend into? What does this mean?
Yet another separation?
Not to worry: Its a routine chain
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

52
reaction, wavelengths from
the universe.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

53
Trec melcii, trec
cinci melci n concurs, pe o sticl gradat,

fiecare pe culoarul lui, melci
mpuni cu scobitoarea la antrenament: pe care din
ei vrei s pariezi? Pe melcul
portocaliu-deschis, cu numrul 5. Mare
trenie, s
ateptm clopoelul: atenie, fii gata...
Snail Race
five snails in a race
on a graduated glass,
each poked along during practice with a sharpish toothpick:
Which one will you bet on? Oh,
number 5, the orange snail. Now,
heres
how
it goes: wait for the bell, then
on your mark get
set...
Trec melcii? Trec: n timp

ce camarazii stau n poziie de drepi, nite hrburi.
Voi iar ai but rachiu, nu v pute?
Camarazi
Do the snails pass each other? They

shuffle along. The gamblers
stand up straight, some
shivering... Youve been drinking vodka again, cant
you smell it? Mates
cu uniformele zdrenuite i feele supte, nesplai

i nerai cu sptmnile, pierd
with tattered uniforms, emaciated

faces, dirty and unshaved for weeks, they waste
away, putrefying in idleness, surrounded
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

54
vremea se descompun n trndvie i n tcerea
din jur: i cheltuiesc toi banii pe
pariuri, sunt datori vndui, melcii sunt n fiecare
zi nlocuii, adunai din cimitir.
by silence. Broke,
all their money goes on bets. And every day
the snails are replaced,
collected from the
cemetery.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

55
Fctoarea de minuni
cptate de la unul la altul, din vremea

nceputului toate
s-au amestecat: i trie pe jos brul
sfinit i pielea de pe obraji, de pe burt, i trie
snii, ficatul, rinichii, maxilarul
inferior, minile de doi metri, unii din sat i le
ridic, alii le pipie, le calc n
picioare, le muc, le gust, pe alii i excit,
ce de lume, ce i-o fi apucat pe
toi, nebunul, mutul, vrjitoarea, curva satului,
preotul, nvtorul, moaa,
doctorul, farmacistul, veterinarul, fierarul... Unde
se duce? E fctoarea de minuni,
singura pe o raz de o 100 de kilometri... Ea aparine
unei evoluii anterioare. Nu mai st,
c toate s-au amestecat:
nconjoar satul, se nchin la cimitir i o
ia de nebun pe oseaua
pietruit, spre sud. Dar de ce n-o ia spre nord? Aa-i
The Wonder-Maker
they had been together

like that forever, socialising
only with each other, when along she comes,
trailing her sacred
belly band, the skin of her arse,
her belly, her breasts, her liver and kidneys,
her lower jaw, two-meter-long arms...
some villagers lift them, some
touch them, step on
them, bite them, and some are
aroused...
What a world! What has got into them all
the madman, the mute,
the witch, the whore, the priest,
the teacher, midwife, doctor,
pharmacist, veterinary... even
the blacksmith? Where
is she going?
She is the wonder-maker, the only
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

56
spune ei energia din palm. O ndrum
Dumnezeu? A plecat c n-a putut s dea de capt
Rului, cu toat silina ce i-a dat-o...
one within 100 kilometers... Shes from the back

of beyond, a prehistoric human. But shell
not stay because these people are
so insular. She circles
the village, stops in the graveyard to pray, then
like a crazy person walks
along the paved road thats heading
South. Why not North? Because
this is where the energy in her palm
tells her to go. Is it God
she follows?
Hard as she tried
she couldnt undo
the Evil
in that place.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

57
Adeverirea
La umbra viinului pe jumtate uscat, viin

btrn, i
aprinde o igar cu minile
tremurtoare: de departe
vede cum vine spre el adeverirea... Nemernica! De fiecare
dat cnd ceva esenial nu merge, vine
ea. n acelai cult al
nedesvririi.
Se sprijin de viin privete furnicile pe trunchiul

lui. Se apropie cu buzele de ele, sufl,
alung furnicile, apar altele, sufl iar, acolo e
o bobi mare de rin, tare
la pipit: o
desprinde de tulpin, o pune pe limb,
o mestec nu
are gustul unei emoii profunde,
The Verdict
In the shade of the dying sour cherry tree (an old and
very sour cherry), with shaking hands
he lights a cigarette. Far over
the horizon
he sees the dreaded verdict
approaching... Bitch! Every time something
crucial goes wrong, she turns
up. With
the same
smug
futile
religion.
Leaning on the sour cherry tree,
he watches the ants
crawling on its trunk, brings
his lips toward them, blows them away; others
take their place, so again
he blows and finds
a large resin bead, hard
to his touch. He skins it from the tree-trunk,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

58
drgstoase, din trecut, care ar fi trebuit s fie moart?
lays it on his tongue,

chews it: it doesnt taste of the old, allencompassing love he remembers, which should
by now
have
died?
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

59
Obinuii cu prostiile zilnice, tocii
Deluged with Daily Stupidity, Worn out
Nu m ridic la nlimea cerinelor: unde

oamenii stau i n cap. n
ncremenitul orizont: nu m descurc n aluatul
vicleugului, de fapt, prins n tain Rudele psriinebune-ce-a-inut-s-m-aduc-pnaici sunt i acum convinse de plcerile celei
dinti locuine din paradis: e nemaipomenit la noi, nu
neleg, eu n-am reuit dect s m afund pe
o crare pierdut, luptnd cu
mrcinii Aici, unde
I do not measure up, not even

to those who sit on their heads. Inside the icy
horizon I am not smothered by the dough
of duplicity, but rather
secretly intrigued... The coo-coo
relatives of the bird-who-wanted-to-lureme-here are now enjoying
the pleasures of this first house of paradise. For us, its
wonderful: I dont understand
how Ive managed to be drawn
down this lost path, struggling
with thorns... here where
cursurile anilor au spat n urm

rpe
adnci, de netrecut i spiritul viitorului,
obiect de ur, prea optimist sau
prea pesimist, a fost pus pe fug demult
the years have dredged

abysses behind them unbridgeable
crossings from which
the spirit of the future
(a hated concept, hopeful
or bleak) was banished
long ago.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

60
Semn ru
cu dezndejde i credin: privind cu ncetinitorul

la firiorul de ap la care
a cobort din zbor o albin nsetat pe o treapt
a scrii, ce minunie... Scar pe care
tocmai coboar mireasa! Coboar... Privete speriat,
cu ochii scoi din orbite la pantoful cu piatr
preioas al miresei, n
mers: cum strivete albina! Semn ru.
Bad Sign
with despair and faith, staring

in
slow
motion
at
the tiny pond where
a thirsty bee rests
on a step
of the steep
staircase what a wonder! while the bride
walks
down...
The glare
from her shoe with its precious jewel
fairly knocked his eyes out of their sockets, but on
and on
she walks.. .crushing
the bee!
A bad sign, that. Smile, please.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

61
Zmbii, v rog: fotograful
i d mna, mireasa iese din curte s lege o crp
neagr i un colac la cpstrul calului
care a adus pn aici mirele. S fie cu noroc!
Poftii...
The photographer offers his hand; the bride

leaves the yard to tie a black
cloth and collar on the horse,
the one that brought the groom here. Cheers!
Come along now...
Sunt poftii cu toii n odaia

cea mare, s cinsteasc un pahar de rachiu: Doamne
ajut! E poftit i el, Vale-Deal, cavaler
din evul mediu, singuratic, plin de cin, privind
Everyones invited into the grand hall to drink a toast in

brandy.
God help us! Also invited,
Valley-Hill, a medieval knight, lonely, penitent,
gazing
n continuare n gol, de acum: c nu

te lsa descurajat! Nu eti singurul care se arat
speriat atunci cnd... Atunci
into the future: Dont

put yourself down! Youre not the only one who looks
scared when... when...
cnd nu se poate obine nimic dect prin nlare.
none can rise up

except
through the souls
ascension.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

62
din loc n loc pe terasament
din loc n loc, pe terasament, ciorile, pietre

mai mari, ascuite, m tiau n tlpi: mergeam tot
descul, din travers n travers, pe linie, dup
ce trecea un mrfar, psruic, nalt ct un copil, tot ciugulind bobie,
pn ajungeam n cer: aici, numai
ce un nger, cu o petal, de trandafir, n gur, dup
ce se hlizete, face o piruet, se
mai terge o dat la ochi i zice: n definitiv,
intrarea e liber... mi ddu s mnnc, n
pahar o cais i l servii i eu, atunci, cu
un oric, o bucic, luat n buzunar, de acas s
mi ie de foame i s mai stau o or, acolo, n plus,
cu vaca, pe zon... mi fcu
semn s nu m uit, c
are o surpriz i ntoarse placa, la gramofon: localul sta de noapte, al nostru, continu
ngerul, e i mprie i sal de gimnastic: dan,
deci... ba, nu, somn uor, frate..., i rspunsei i
eu, n genunchi i cu palmele mpreunate, cum
From one Place to Another in the Ditch
from one place to another

along the railroad ditch: crows;
larger, sharper stones
that cut my feet (I still walked barefoot along the tracks, one
tie to the next, after a train had passed)... a birdie, tall as a child, picked
grains until we touched the sky where an angel
carrying
a rose petal
in his mouth, suddenly stopped laughing, pirouetted, wiped
his eyes and said, after all,
entry is free... He fed me
an apricot in a glass, and I shared
some pork rind Id brought from home,
stuffed in my pocket in case I got hungry, and we
sat there for a whole hour, near
the cow... He told me
I shouldnt look because he had
a surprise. He put a record
on the gramophone: This
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

63
m nvase tata, cnd i povestisem, prima
oar, de o asemenea
feerie i m fceam c adorm: somn uor, frate...
place of ours tonight the angel

said, is both kingdom and
gymnasium: so
dance!... Oh, no, sleep brother,
I answered,
on my knees with my hands
clasped (as my father taught
me when first I
told him about
a daydream I once had like this), pretending
to fall asleep: sleep tight, brother...
i numai ce scoteam creionul chimic i

umezeam cte un loc, pe picioare, pe mini, pe
burt, m rog, peste tot unde puteam
scrie, pe mine, s nu uit ce am vzut acolo, repede, n
trans, n vis: tranee, cozi de vulpi la plrie, gard de mrcini, motani verzi, fanioane CFR noi-noue,
flanele de cas, de ln, cariere de ghips, mtasa
porumbului... cpcuni, mingi de foc, scripc,
behieli de capr, poezii (poezii?...), lanuri de orez,
puti cu alice, picturi de pus n ochi, scrum i corturile
iganilor, rou... i mai tiu eu ce...
and I had only a chemical pencil, so

I moistened it here
and there on my
feet, my hands, my
stomach well, everywhere on me that I could write, so I
would never
forget what I had seen and heard in
that instant, in that dream:
dugouts, a hat
with foxtails on it, a fence
made out of weeds, green
tomcats, brand new
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

64
railroad flags, wool sweaters to wear at home, gypsum
quarries and corn silk... ogres, fireballs, a fiddle,
goats baa-ings, poems (poems?... ), rice
fields, rifle shots,
eye drops, ash and gypsies tents, dew... and who knows
what... stomach well, everywhere on me that I could
write, so I would never
forget what I had seen and heard in
that instant, in that dream:
dugouts, a hat
with foxtails on it, a fence
made out of weeds, green
tomcats, brand new
railroad flags, wool sweaters to wear at home, gypsum
quarries and corn silk... ogres, fireballs, a fiddle,
goats baa-ings, poems (poems?...), rice
fields, rifle shots,
eye drops, ash and gypsies tents, dew... and who knows
what...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

65
Drum stins
Dead Road
aa rea. De parc nu se mai simea desprirea

i bucuria. Sreau ntr-un picior,
se aruncau unii n braele altora, chiuiau dei
unii mureau dup aceea, iar alii
se mpreunau la ntmplare, s-i plng amarul i
singurtatea. Eu urcam
pe atunci zilnic n satul vechi,
uitat de Dumnezeu, unde erau tia, m opream pe la
biserica prsit i m uitam cum se
distruge ncetul cu ncetul, c aluneca pmntul...
so demeaning. As if their separation could no longer be torn

from their joy, each of them hopped on one foot, jumping
into the others
arms, whistling although some
would later die
and others casually meet
to sob out their loneliness. Back then
I went daily to the ancient, godforsaken village where these
people lived. I stopped
in the abandoned church
and saw it gradually sink
as the land slowly
slipped...
Acum, nu se mai ntmpl nimic,

nicieri. Pe aici mama, sraca, nu mai nfige
toporica n tocul uii, venit de pe
lumea cealalt: s nu mai plou cu pietre nici
mcar att. Nici nu mai
sunt att de nervos cum eram nainte. Eu
Now, nothings happening the way it used to anywhere.

Mother, poor woman, doesnt fix the hatchet in the doorframe any more
to keep rocks
from falling in (coming,
as she does, from the other world) not even that.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

66
And I Im not
as angry as I was. I
sunt cel care a scris aici,
mare: Drumul spre fericire, dar cine s m cread?
Numai eu tiu de cte ori m-am ntors
din drumul sta. C am fost
pe aici pe cuvnt! ntre timp, drumul s-a stins.
am the one who once wrote here

in giant letters The Road to Happiness, but
who will believe me? Only I
know how many times I have returned
along this road. Yes,
I have been here before! I give you my word. Meanwhile
the road has disappeared.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

67
Cum se leag un capt al ghemului la intrare
O zdrnicie a reelei de nervi ntini. De foame i
recunotin. Ce altceva: s o lum de la
zero. Eu, expus: nu
mi e foame de fructele tale... Redui
la tcere. Fr speran. Ci
te descos. Tu? Joc de lumin i umbr... O
comptimire: la adresa
lumii... Iubito, acum. Truda i amarul din expresia
ei: a suprafeei vzute de sus, nesigure, pe
care stm nlnuii, n
cavern, nghiii cu vi i lunci. i
cu dovezi de fidelitate... ngropai cu faa n filele
jurnalului
personal.
Ah, succesiune a zilei cu noaptea: poate mine nici
pielea
ginii pe noi nu va mai fi... Poate omul i
reprezint lui nsui destinul. Om
al celeilalte lumi? C eu sunt destinul... Poate
How to Tie the End of a Yarn Ball to Your Front

Door
The futility of the stretched nerve network. Of hunger and

indebtedness. For the rest,
lets start
from nothing. Myself, exposed: I do not covet
your fruits... Reduced
to silence. Hopeless. But to sound you out: You? A game
of light and shadows. Compassion for the world... Now,
my love... Toil and bitterness I see
looking down at your expressive face, chained
to uncertainty, in a cave, swallowed
in valleys and meadows. And
with proofs
of fidelity... face buried in the pages
of a private journal.
Oh, the sequence of days and nights: maybe
tomorrow my flesh
will not creep... Maybe a man
can speak for his own
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

68
un hohot: de pe reversul
lunii. Unde
mai eti tu, lun? Ptruni tot mai adnc n
subteran. Desprini de orice ataament corporal. Eu, pe

fiecare loc: nconjurat de rid, al
corpului tu, descoperind
criptogramele transmise din
strmo n strmo... Dar ce e n mine? ara
cereasc se risipete n mine... Transformai
n psri de vrjitoare: btnd
aerul n gol.
Rostind cuvinte fr a mica

buzele, n mirosul de mr ars din captivitate. Amndoi
n penumbra acestui timp, al
visului...
destiny: a man of the other

world? For I am my destiny... Maybe
there is laughter on the far side of the moon.
Where
are you now, Moon? Deep
underground. Detached from any human
links. Myself, Im
everywhere: covered in the wrinkles of your body, revealing
cryptograms passed on from one
generation to another... But whats inside
of me? The celestial
country fades inside me... Turned into birds
by the witches: flying uselessly
in the air.
Uttering words without moving our lips,
the smell of burnt apples in captivity. Together
in this shady age of
dreams...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

69
Ce ai nverzit
How Green Youve Become
Ce ai nverzit, crnurilor: acum, la sfritul

primverii mele, de dup pnza de tifon
a rdcinilor
voastre, nenelese, ngroate de puroi, rsuflarea
fiarei mi provoac
ameeala: prostituato, tu, cu pstaie de mazre,
te aleg pe tine
How green youve become, flesh, now at the end of my

youth, my spring, behind the gauze
hiding the wound, misunderstood, skin thickened by infection, this bestial breath
sickens me. You whore,
you with your pea pods, I
have chosen you.
o, iubitule, bufonule din pdurea din aer: la picioarele

mele cristalul, al
ctelea, doarme dezvelit dup dragoste,
descrescnd... gndete: dar ce e sub pmnt: poamele
crengilor i scot gurile la
suprafa,
rnjite i m atrag cu vorbe neltoare,
iar: nu te ndeprta!...
oh, my love, my buffoon from the forest in the sky,

the crystal at my feet how many
have I had? sleeping exposed to my failing adoration...Think: But whats behind this? The fruit
on the branches taunt the grinning mouths
above, and now they draw me in with lies
again. Dont go so far away!...
privesc, uns la inim, la snii ti, fr

sutien, cum se zbat ct mi
st
I am looking with great pleasure

at your breasts, braless, how they struggle when
a gypsy selling earrings and bubblegum gets
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

70
n cale o iganc, vnztoare de cercei i
gum de mestecat, cumpr
i eu una, i care cnt din frunz, cnt, a
dracului: te repudiez, te repudiez, i
strecor dar tu faci, n
continuare, pai de dans, despletit, trgnd
de mine: mie
mi struia n minte un fit, ns, fitul complet
absorbant al
filmului vechi, de la cinematograful de unde abia
ieisem?... am uitat
between us. I buy something and she leaves, still singing.

God
damn! I repudiate you. Yes, I repudiate
you, I am
faking, but you keep on dancing,
wildly, perpetually, drawing
me in. My mind rustles like the utterly absorbing
rustle of old films in the cinema
we just left... I had forgotten
ce plcut lucru ntunericul: fr

trupuri, n
el ne putem sfrteca unul pe
altul: aici, n hrub, pstorul, fariseu, plin de clei, de viin,
bun de mncat, lipsit de griji, nu
o s mai in s
nu ne facem de cap...
n abis
how delicious the darkness is

with our bodies inside it. We could sculpt
each other, there in the cavern; that pastor, old
blubbering Pharisee that he is, mouth
full of cherries, engorged, engrossed, wont
stop us making love...
in the abyss.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

71
Muzeu transformat n biseric
Dumnezeu trece prin faa ferestrei, cu siren vezi
cte zbrcituri are pe fa? Nu vd.
Scrie duumeaua: sprijinii pe coate, mui

i azi, v cltinai
linguria n ceac, nemulumii. Cioara, de pe
ua de la intrare, crie, strig, i bate
aripile, numai noi doi o
nelegem: norocul v surde iar, spune ea. Voi, din popor,
aplaudai. Nu te mai holba att: ce
ai, m doare capul, s nu fii
deocheat... Nu de cap m plng eu, ci de ce eti
tu n cmpul de rapi, n fotografie, lng
tipa aia cu snii goi: i
tremur glasul, iar
ncepi? Cobornd mpreun de pe colin... Abia
Museum Transformed into a Church
God moves past the window, sirens sounding

do you see
how wrinkled his face is? (No, I dont.)
The floor squeaks: propped on elbows, silent
today as ever, you move your coffee spoon in the cup,
dissatisfied.
The crow
at the front door screeches, squawks, fluttering
its wings, only we
can understand it: Luck is on your side again
she says. You, the people, applaud.
Stop staring: my head
hurts... Dont give me the evil eye... Im not complaining
about my headache, but because you were in the rape field,
in that photograph, beside
the chick with the naked breasts: her voice was trembling,
did you do it
again? Coming down the hill together...
Just afterwards
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

72
ieii din frnicie i intrai ntr-un
muzeu de tiine naturale,
liberi, muzeu transformat n biseric fii
binecuvntai cu toii, neantul
se afl n mine.
denying your deceit, you enter

the natural science museum,
a free man (the museum that has become
a church): May you all
be blessed! I am filled, alas,
with emptiness.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

73
Ea, un vestigiu
vine de la prit, i spal picioarele la cimeaua din

gar, i scoate din geant pantofii
curai, de ora, mpacheteaz n hrtie nclmintea
murdar, i pune n punga de plastic
i cumpr bilet pentru trenul personal. Ea, un vestigiu.
E tnr, drgu, bine mirositoare,
habar nu are de cine trebuie s se fereasc, se duce
ctre doftorii cei sufleteti. Azi a
ars-o ceva pe gt, a urcat n creier, n emisfera stng,

apoi arsura a cobort pn la inim
i de aici a ajuns la picioare, unde a rmas ce e?
E tulburat. Poate spurcatul din ea
vrea s se mrturiseasc E un lucru cu primejdie.
Fiindc asemenea vestigii, cum e
Herself, a Vestige
coming from weeding, she washes her feet at the stations

fountain, takes her clean shoes out of the bag (the ones for
the city), packs
the dirty ones in paper, dumps them back in the bag and
buys
a cheap ticket for
the local train that stops
in everyones backyard...
Herself, a vestige:
Shes young, pretty, smells good, has no idea
who shed better stay away from; shes
going to the doctors of the soul.
Today
something
burned through her throat, rose to the left side of her brain,
then scorched her heart and from there
descended to her feet where it remained. What is it?
Confused, she wonders if the evil inside her
is struggling to confess. A dangerous thing for such
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

74
acesta al ei, nu sunt sortite s nving secolele
vestiges as she
arent
destined to defeat
the centuries.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

75
Loc nalt
loc nalt, nconjurat cu an... loc de mnstire, n

form ptrat, unde aveam
noi nfipte steagurile de lupt, albastre... i roii...
cu altar, tribun i cu
corturi de piele, de zece persoane... aici, deci,
n aer liber, ca la teatru, pe jeratic,
ardeau nbuit, n alcool,
grunele de ienupr (zpcind nchipuirile) i
unde nu ncepea o
vraj, cu o roat cu psri (din pmnt
ars) i cu aplauze... b, te pedepsete dumnezeu
dac faci vrji
dar erau vechituri toate, se stafideau i dispreau, la

un moment dat, din memorie i
auzeam: e srbtoare azi, tontule, nu mai citi att
A Perch
atop a square-shaped perch

meant for a monastery but surrounded
by a ditch instead, wed planted
our battle flags, blue and red. Now we
put up a rostrum, a stand and leather
tents accommodating
ten people... thus,
there,
outdoors,
like at a theatre, the jury, using peppers stewed in alcohol
from juniper grains to create delirium and where they
would NOT (surely not) begin
a magic spell
with a wheel of birds burned
on embers in the earth
to applause... hey, you god will punish you if you cast spells
but it was all just junk that faded and in time

vanished from memory and you could only hear Todays
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

76
i nu mai scrie
schimbam vorba: e pcat s preti duminica n
grdini, n interior la tine,
bunicule, nu s citeti i s scrii... nu
m nva tu pe mine: las jos fanionul, o dat i
deschide bariera, c ne bat
oamenii
a holiday, idiot: dont read,

dont write...
To change the subject: Its a sin on Sunday to weed
your little garden. Put down the flag once and for all, open
the barrier lest the people fight there in your property, your
very own small garden. Grandpa, dont teach me to read or
write: just
put down the flag...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

77
n viaa de toate zilele
In Everyday Life
n viaa de toate zilele se

mai petrec i lucruri care dau de gndit
vechiturilor: nu mai departe, mirezmele
se aud n megafoanele pieii vorbind foarte bine
limba romn,
i i expun parfumele intime fr pic de ruine pe
tarabe: poftii un vis, o rcoare dar servii
in everyday life some oddities

set an old chap thinking. Often
right here, loudspeakers at the market, in clear
Romanian, broadcast
their most intimate scents and powders
shamelessly exposed on stalls: wet dreams
served up on a platter...
ehe, unde ne sunt crbuii

i zna cii ferate cu ierbile arse, unde
ne sunt interioarele ppuii, de turt dulce i
clopoelul dogit, de la ua oficiului, uneltele de tortur
i pclele, unde ne sunt bolile blonde ale ranului, unde
iasomiile copilrelilor i scripeii care scoteau cizmele,
orbirile i absolut toate resentimentele:
oh, where are our beetles

and where the fairy in the grass
charred between the railroad tracks, and where
the sweet insides
of gingerbread dolls, the broken bell
on the office door, all
those dreadful instruments of torture, the treacherous fogs,
and where
oh where is the albino peasant, the jasmine scent
of childhood, the pulleys
that carried our boots, and all the blinding
absolute
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

78
resentments?
nu mai sunt,
n ochi apa stttoare farmec pn i vedeniile, degeaba
i freac, otrvitoare, rozele, spinii de noi, gata,
o nostalgie ce mai rmne sufletul i
o crcan la pratia, care tot trage cu acadele
n urm: asta e
gone,
those delights to the eye the vision of stagnant water
nothing
will erase, rosebuds with poisonous thorns finished
forever.
Only nostalgia remains in the soul, the crotch
of a sling that keeps shooting
lollypops at the past: thats all there is...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

79
i las i ngerul meu Pzitor
dou fetie nepieptnate, pline de bubie dulci, descule,

cu noroi uscat ntre degete i cu
ochii strlucitori, ochi de scoici cu perle, oprite n dreptul
inimilor
noastre, la care se nchin, cerind
puin nelegere Le curge snge pe un picior, au
ciclu? M caut n portmoneu, nu
am mrunt, tu
te uii lung la ele, de unde or fi aprut? Nu m ndur s le dau
dou bancnote de 10.000 de lei, ntrzii,
nu tiu ce s fac, dac
nu le dau, mi poart ghinion: ele m scuip Ele nu vor
bani,
ele vor dragoste Cum? Tu eti n cele dou
fetie? La alt vrst...
Im Also Leaving You My Guardian Angel
two girls, hair unkempt, their faces

ringworm scarred;
bare-foot, mud
caked between their toes; such sparkling eyes eyes
of mother-of-pearl stopped
before
our hearts, bowing, pleading
for a nod of sympathy... Blood on their legs; do
they have
their periods? I look in my wallet, no change;
you
look at them suspiciously: where did they come
from?
I can hardly give them
two bills worth 10,000 lei. Ill be
late!
What should I do? If
I dont give them something, theyll bring me bad luck.
They spit...
They dont want money,
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

80
they want love.... How do you know? Are you inside
them? At a different age...
Mthind de foame: tu,

ieit, de acum, din ap, din balie, cu alunie crescute pe fes i
pe
piept, ce faci? M prseti? M
prseti, i nainte s prseti
i cimitirul, mi
lai pietrele i plantele dimprejur la fel de ostile C la nceput
totul era
amestecat Iat, i
las i ngerul meu Pzitor, i las i inima, scoas
din piept, i las i cele dou
fetie n
timp ce, eu, stau (lsai-m s stau aici, c sunt
ndrgostit), stau stropit de snge, n
btaia vntului.
Faint with hunger: you

just out of your bath moles
on their backs and chests what are you doing? Are you
leaving me? Then leave
me, but before you leave the cemetery, too, leave
my
stones and plants, as hostile toward us as ever...
Because in the beginning
everything was mixed together... Here, I also leave you
my Guardian Angel, my heart
torn from my chest; and I leave you
the two girls... For now,
Im staying (let me stay here,
for I am in love). I remain
splattered with
blood, in
tumbleweeds.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

81
A but mercur nclzit
nu te teme, dup pine, i se va lua i apa

stomacul i se va contracta... Urli
degeaba. Nici s dormi nu te las, dar ai s aipeti,
att ct s simi c nu mai poi duce
mai departe confruntarea
asta cu tine nsui. Bigui iar: Mi-am aprut singur
n vis, dar parc eram alt brbat, care
dou nopi la rnd mi-a strigat: Vale-Deal, vinde
calul c-o s rmi fr el i-o s-i par
ru. Vinde-l acuma! Am crezut c-o s mi-l fure
iganii...
He Drank Warm Mercury
dont be afraid, after the bread, they

will also take the water
the stomach will contract... You
scream
for nothing. You say you cant sleep, but you will
take a nap
just to feel the heaviness
of this battle
with yourself
dissolve. Again you mumble: I seemed
alone
in my dream, as if I were
another man
who shouted at me two nights in a row,
Valley-Hill, the horse sell
it. Yes, youll be left
without it, and youll
be sorry. But sell it now! I thought
the gypsies would
steal it from me...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

82
Cnd erai treaz, mai ru: te ntrebai care cal, m,
fraierule, c eu n-am nici un cal, unde
s-l in, la bloc,
la apartament? l ii ascuns, hai? Doamne ferete i
apr, de ce e n stare mintea asta la
om... C nu era vorba de cal, ci de soarta mea. Ct
am mai trit aa? O sptmn?

Am but mercur nclzit, degeaba: era aa bun la gust,
pluteam peste tufele de mrcini,
unele nflorite, ba colo, ba ncolo, ba ncoa.
When I awoke, it got worse: you

wondered which horse. You loser I
dont have a horse, where
would I keep it in this block of flats,
in the apartment? Youd keep him
hidden? God forbid, what
the human mind is capable of... It wasnt about the horse; it
was
about my life.
How long
have I lived like this? A week?
I drank warm mercury. No reason. It
tasted so good.
I was floating over the thorn trees.
Some of them blossomed,
here and there.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

83
Maina metafizic
The Metaphysical Machine
Pentru aceast mhnire strveche, tot

mai strveche, azi eti gata s-i depui armele.
Armele: un amestec de ispite
contradictorii. Faci
un pas. Att
i mai trebuia s faci. Un pas... Boala
i se trage de la
lun. ntredeschizi obloanele de plumb. n
zarea
amenintoare, trmul cellalt se ndeprteaz, se
ndeprteaz: trmul
acela era legat de tinereea mea... Plngi
linitit, abia acum vd. Dar
Because of our ancient sorrow, which grows

more ancient day by day, you are now
ready to lay down your weapons.
A mixture of conflicting pipe-dreams, those weapons! You
take
a step. Thats all you need to do: One step... Your malady
is from the moon. Those guns blast through
our lead shutters. Alone
in this strange threatening land, the other land forgotten,
forgotten... That country was part
of my youth. Stay now, cry.
Only now I see... But
mi vezi i uzura interioar? Faci

pe nebuna. n
cas, maina reinventat de fabricat
fericirea, pe butuci, te asurzete ea e maina
metafizic, i-o prezint. Srut
mna...
can you see my inner workings, too? Go

wild, then. In the house
the happiness machine, metamorphosed
from the hubcaps of cars, deafens you. Let
me introduce you to
the metaphysical machine.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

84
How-do-you-do...
Fitilul lmpii, pe mas, unde ai o scrisoare
deschis, a
afumat sticla. E afumat n form de cal ce
nseamn cal? Soart? Tu
ghiceti n sticla afumat?
The lighted wick of the lamp on the table, where

your unopened letter
rests, has smoked the glass. Its the fuzzy image
of a horse what does a horse
signify? Faith? Can you read
the future
in smoked glass?
O, amintirea acestei insule-spital a noastr, n

care sunt internai curajoii
satului toi, plecai n cutarea lui
Dumnezeu i
nemaintori.
Oh, the memory of this hospital-island of ours,

where all our brave villagers are held all
of them abandoned
to seek God,
never to return.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

85
O biseric mergtoare
A Walking Church
Miresme vtmtoare i diferite forme de rtciri, ba

cnta i cucul cnd a
ajuns din urm o biseric neterminat, pus pe patru roi,
plin de gutui, cu
limba scoas. I s-a prut c
are n faa ochilor o adevrat ntrire n
necunoscut a graiei sale, din tineree. Mai ales c era sub o
impresie
profund, atunci, a sfatului
unui venerabil ef de trib s
caute o biseric neterminat, mergtoare, i s se roage n ea: c
tcerea,
ndelung practicat, nu-i place lui Dumnezeu,
deoarece i te ascunzi Cnd a
Irritating scents and odd ways of wandering,

the cuckoo sang when he caught up with an unfinished
church rolling
on four wheels and chock full of quinces which teased
his tongue. He felt that he was looking at
a validation of the youthful grace
hed never been sure hed had. Years ago
hed been advised by the most reverend chief of his tribe
to keep
an eye out for an unfinished
church a walking one and to pray inside there
because the silence, a long tradition, would keep
God from thinking he might be
holding something back. When he
ajuns-o din urm, a constatat c, de fapt, biserica asta

neterminat era o simpl cru tras de cai,
care scria ngrozitor. i n care nu te puteai urca, s te rogi,
fiind
plin vrf cu
finally caught up with it, he realised

that this unfinished church was nothing
more than a horse-drawn carriage. And
what a racket it made! And worse, it
was impossible to board, let alone pray
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

86
tot felul de roade stricate, adunate la ntmplare, ale
acestor vremuri.
inside it, full of rotten harvest as it was, all

dumped together by chance, symbolic
of these times.
Regsit, s-a aezat pe coada cruei.
Resigned, he sat down at the end of the carriage.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

87
A da de but celor nsetai
Give a Drink to The Thirsty Ones
coborte din trsuri pline de praf, ntoarse

acas pentru
a bea o cafea turceasc aa cum numai un brbat tie s o fac,
pe
malul
unei bli srate femei
dornice de nvtura lucrurilor pieritoare. nsetate. Coborte
cte
una, cte dou, cte trei,
generaii de femei dup generaii urmrite de viermele
singurtii. Ba urmrite de iubire, susin
ele... Ele ntre ele, conversaia
On the edge of a salt marsh,

descending from dusty carriages to
come home for a Turkish coffee that only a true man
knows how to make,
women being eager to learn
only unscrupulous things.
Thirsty. For one, two, three generations
women have been pursued by
the loneliness worm. Pursued by love...
they say... (The conversation between them
lncezete: femei? O colcial de resentimente pn la urm,

gata s
te scoat din mini. mprtind
amrciunea: Spusele lor? Asemenea
cu blegarul... Ele, care
continues): women? A bucket of feelings

after all, ready
to drive you crazy. Sharing
the bitterness: Their talk? Its all
horseshit... They who
determin tipul de particul elementar... Femei
decide the type of elementary
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

88
uscate cu timpul, nlocuite de altele,
vaporizate,
condensate sub pmnt sub form de sare,
particle... women
dried up in time, replaced by others,
vaporised,
condensed underground as salt,
ntoarse vii pe aceast lume din cnd n cnd, rar, coborte

din trsuri pline de praf pentru
a bea o cafea
turceasc pe malul unei bli...
returning alive in this world from

time to time, but rarely descending
from dusty carriages to
drink Turkish coffee
on the edge of a salt marsh.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

89
De ce
de ce m-am nscut n romnia i nu ntr-o familie de tigri

din grdina zoologic,
de ce aici, unde am ajuns,
nimic nu are sens i
de ce lumina de acum s-a nscut din
ntunericul a ceea ce am fost eu 58 de ani, de ce ntorci
capul, daca eu sunt nainte i rspund:
sunt aici i acum fiindc trebuia s fiu aici i acum
Why?
why was I born in romania

instead of amid
a family of tigers captive at the zoo, why here,
where I turned up?
Nothing makes sense... and why
now this light
born from the darkness of what I have been
for 58 years, why are
you turning your head when I am facing
you Im answering you:
I am here right now because this is
where I belong.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

90
Information about the Poet
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu s-a nscut la 19 februarie 1950, n

comuna Dumbrava Roie (Canton CFR), Piatra Neam. i-a
petrecut copilria la Cantonul 248Halta CFR Adjudu
Vechi. n 1951, la 21 iunie, a murit mama poetului.
A studiat, cu lungi ntreruperi, filologia i filozofia.
n 1968, la 18 ani, a plecat voluntar n armat dup
ocuparea Cehoslovaciei de ctre trupele Tratatului de la
Varovia.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu was born on 19 February 1950 in a

northern Romanian village. His mother was struck by
thunderbolt on 21 June, and she died the very year he was
born.
With long interruptions, the poet studied philology and
philosophy.
Stoiciu was 18 when Czechoslovakia was invaded by the
army of the countries members in the Warsaw Pact. He
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

91
A avut cele mai neateptate meserii: profesor
suplinitor, miner i vagonetar n subteran (la Blan-Harghita
i Dlja-Petroani), calculator-contabil, corector i ziarist (la
Miercurea Ciuc, la Informaia Harghitei), arhivar,
expeditor CFR import-export, magaziner, normator
transporturi auto, zilier, primitor-distribuitor, antierist,
muncitor necalificat (inclusiv la o fabric de coniac),
ncrctor de vagoane de marf, controlor de calitate n
siderurgie (la Bucureti).
Nu a fost membru al PCR, motiv pentru care a fost
calificat ca rezistent/ opozant. n 1989 a fost inclus n al
CFSN/CPUN Vrancea i n Parlamentului Provizoriu, dar
s-a retras dup numai trei luni.
A lucrat apoi ca redeactor la revistele Contrapunct
i Viaa Romneasc, la ziarul Cotidianulfondat de
Ion Raiu. De la sfritul anului 1990 s-a mutat la Bucureti.
A debutat n anul 1967, cu versuri n pagina literar a
ziarului regiunii Bacu, Steagul Rou
La 30 de ani, n 1980, i-a aprut prin concurs volumul
de debut La fanion, care a primit Premiul Uniunii Scriitorilor.
Cartea este de o for rar i a scpat cenzurii numai datorit
talentului lui Liviu Stoiciu. n urma ei i nu numai, poetul a
avut dosar de urmrire operativ informativ la
Securitate. n Uniunea Scriitorilor a intrat abia dup 1989.
volunteered to join the army and spent two years in it.

He had the most unexpected jobs, among which
substitute teacher, miner, accountant, proofreader and
journalist, construction worker, worker in factories.
He never joined the Romanian Communist Party, and the
authorities perceived him as a constant opposer. This caused
him to be included in the first government formed in
December 1989, after the fall of communism in Romania. He
left it only three months later.
After 1990, he worked for several literary magazines and
moved to Bucharest.
He made his literary debut in the year 1967, when a local
communist paper published one of his poems.
He was 30 when his book of poetry won a contest and
was published. He even received the prize of the Romanian
Writers Union for it. Being followed by the Securitate, he
only joined that Union after 1989. Stoicius first book was
incredibly powerful, and it escaped censorship only because
he was gifted enough to realize that he did not need open
statements to express his dissent.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

92
Cri publicate. Books published

Poezie. Poems
La fanion, 1980
Inima de raze, 1982
Cnd memoria va reveni, 1985
O lume paralel, 1989
Poeme aristocrate, 1991
Singurtatea colectiv, 1996
Ruinele Poemului, 1997
Post-ospicii, 1997
Poemul animal, 2000
La plecare, 2003
Cantonul 248, 2005
pam-param-pam (adjudu vechi), 2006
Craterul Platon, 2008
Pe prag / Vale-Deal, 2010
Lanul, 2012
Substane interzise, 2012
Memorii. Memoirs
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

93
Jurnalul unui martor (13-15 iunie 1990, Piaa Universitii,
Bucureti), 1992.
Jurnal stoic din anul Revoluiei, urmat de Contrajurnal, 2002
Cartea zdrniciei (Convorbiri de sfrit cu Al. Deliu &
Inspiraii de nceput, 2008.
Proz. Fiction
Femeia ascuns, 1997
Grijania, 1999
Undeva, la Sud-Est (ntr-unu-s doi), 2001
Romanul-basm (Trup i Suflet), 2002
Teatru. Drama
Teatrul uitat, 2005
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

94
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

95
Information about the Translators
Leah Fritz
Leah Fritz has published five collections of poems since

she moved to London from New York in 1985.
This is her second co-translation of poetry from
Romanian into English.
Although Leah Fritz had been writing poetry since
early childhood, it was not until she came to Britain that she
accepted it as a vocation.
Born and educated in New York, Leah Fritzs essays
and journalism on the peace, civil rights and feminist
movements resulted in two non-fiction books.
Leah Fritz s-a mutat de la New York la Lonndra n anul 1985

i de atunci a publicat cinci cri de poezie.
Volumul lui Liviu Ioan Stoiciu este al doilea volum pe care l
traduce din limba romn.
Cu toate c a nceput de foarte timpuriu s scrie versuri, Leah
Fritz a nceput s se considere poet abia dup ce s-a mutat n
Anglia.
Leah Fritz s-a nscut i i-a fcut studiile la New York. Acolo
a publicat dou volume de eseuri despre pace, drepturile omului
i micarea feminist.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

96
Ioana Bue
Ioana-Alina Bue was born on 30 May 1987, in

Bucharest.
Ever since childhood, she was fascinated by foreign
languages. She studied Arabic and English at the University
of Bucharest.
She was flight attendant at Air Bucharest for a while,
and she also graduated from the MA Programme for the
Translation of the Contemporary Literary Tex. She is now
teaching Business English in corporations.
Ioana-Alina Bue s-a nscut la Bucureti, la 30 mai 1987.

Limbile strine au pasionat-o din copilrie. A studiat limbile
arab i englez la Universitatea Bucureti.
A fost un timp nsoitoare de zbor, i n aceeai perioad a
terminat Masteratul pentru Traducerea Textului Literar
Contemporan. n prezent pred engleza pentru afaceri.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

97
Information about the Illustrator
Cristina Ioana Young practises

Ophthalmology in the South of France.
She is also interested in painting,
photography and writing.
Cristina Ioana Young este medic

oftalmolog n Sudul Franei.
Pe lng profesia de medic, picteaz,
fotografiaz i scrie proz i poezie.
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

98

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu. CLP

Încărcat de

Informații document

Drepturi de autor

Formate disponibile

Partajați acest document

Partajați sau inserați document

Opțiuni de partajare

Vi se pare util acest document?

Este necorespunzător acest conținut?

Drepturi de autor:

Formate disponibile

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu. CLP

Încărcat de

Drepturi de autor:

Formate disponibile

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu

Translated into English by

Cover and overall Layout: Lidia Vianu