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Entries Tagged as '“Flavia Teoc”'

Poetry in Translation (CCCXCIV), ROMANIA – Flavia TEOC (b. 1971): “Pastel la Cluj ”, “Watecolour”

April 29th, 2016 · No Comments · Famous People, International Media, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

As the night is extending its body of destructive love
Over the cupolas of fermented gold
Maybe, once upon a time, I was in love
With a city with stained glass eyes
And sunny streets, verily indeed.

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Poetry in Translation, (CCXCVI), Flavia TEOC (b. 1971), ROMANIA: “Fata în casă, sau despre trupul poetului”, “Maiden at home, or about the poet’s body”

September 10th, 2014 · No Comments · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, quotations, Translations

A small flag will hoist itself boldly
From the carefully pleated bun
It’s still young and it will not yield, easily,
Without a brief fight.

(English version by Constantin ROMAN)

Un steag va flutura îndrăzneţ
Din cocul bine împletit
E încă tânăr, şi n-are de gând să se predea
Fără o scurtă încăierare.

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Poetry in Translation (XXIX – XXXIII): Flavia TEOC (b. 1971) – Five Poems

May 15th, 2006 · Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XXIX – XXXIII): Flavia TEOC (b. 1971) – Five Poems · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

THE SONG OF THE HAMSTER’S COAT

As of today
You are free to go downtown.
The trees’ green tops
Will bend like grass blades
The hot shoulder of the beautiful woman
Is only a passing idol
You, brown hamsters,
You will soon learn this thing
Like all real men do.

CANTECUL HAINEI DE HARCIOG

De azi
Aveti voie sa iesiti in oras.
Varfurile verzi ale copacilor
Se vor apleca asemeni firului de iarba
Umarul cald al femeii frumoase
E doar un idol de-o clipa
Voi, harciogii bruni
Veti invata acest lucru
Ca toti barbatii adevarati.

END OF SUMMER

The sleepy summer presses in its palm
My old cup of tea
With a chipped rim.
August is almost ancient
With his short-sighted eyes fixed on the hot
Brew, while its thoughts are already chasing
The hunt in the polar plains.
The sleepy summer could hardly
Suppress a yawn, as wide as the Blue
Sea.
From now on, thinking of herself,
She will be less talkative.

SFARSIT DE VARA

Somnoroasa vara strange-n palme
Ceasca mea de ceai
Cu buza plesnita.
August e aproape batran
Si-a fixat ochii miopi in licoarea
Fierbinte, dar gandul lui a inceput
Vanatoarea la poluri.
Somnoroasa vara abia si-a
Oprit un cascat, mare cat golful
Albastru.
Vorbind despre sine, de-acum
N-o sa mai fie atat de guraliva.

SUNDAY

It’s nine o’clock
The well-fed cat will fall asleep
Under the red sun.

Afternoon is a fragile realm
The block of butter is melting
In the hot pan.

At seven in the evening, I will bathe
In the pool of my chest my heavy face
Sulphur-like flaxen, lone as the mist.

At ten I say my prayers.
But till tomorrow
All will be forsaken.

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