At the border between garden and orchard,
an old door
with a rusted padlock. Rusted by rain or dew?

We walk through it barefoot blissful, cherubic.
My name: Volatile

Grandmother’s apron, a white cloud
scented with lavender
under which I’d bend my head
when the lamb gave birth,
sowing the air with as many photons
as star seeds
over hills, in summertime.

Then, the timeless joy –
children by the pond
gazing at the orange mill
brimming with moon.

Under the beam,
the braid of garlic cloves
– tiny lanterns
illuminating my height
on the spine of the door,
marked there by father,
his hands fragranced with walnuts,
and on the windowsill
the little sack of seeds waiting to defrost.

At the border between clay and star,
a narrow door
through which only we
could squeeze,
on a path of light.

by Liliana Ursu, translated by Mihaela Moscaliuc

On the galley of his verses,
Chained, he rows through futile tides.
Inspiration? Hollow curses!
Row through seas where Dead Souls bide.

To the ocean, Fresh Woes surging,
Lies will raise a hurricane.
Will the waves destroy his burden?
Hope is folly, just in vain.

Earth and seas, one jail united,
Prison walls that none escape.
Fools and sheep remain delighted —
Madness reigns, the world’s enslaved.


In Russian:

Поэт в океане бед

На галере строк прикован —
Вдохновенье просто чушь!
Так греби упорно снова
Через море Мёртвых Душ

В океан Страданий Новых.
Ложь поднимет ураган.
Разобьёт волна оковы?
Коль надеешься, профан.

Вся земля, все океаны
Как единая тюрьма.
То не ведают бараны —
Мир рабов сошёл с ума.

Just like Orpheus,
I descended.
Though,
my digression was
for different
reasons.
Yeah, I tried to
rescue you from
your hell.
Bring you out of
the degradation,
the debauchery.

It smelled like
***** and ****.
The swine squealed.
The harpies shrieked.
And,
I looked
too long.
I became you.

Thank God I escaped.
Fate dragged me
out by the scruff
of my neck.
You've made it
your home,
but, I will never
visit your underworld
again.

Where have you gone, words?
She vanished like vapour;
No longer lingers like a whisper from my perception, but she girds
Them. She used to pour out endlessly,
flowing like a babbling brook.
Now, dry, like the earth before conception. 
Parched, she sits desolately,
Crying out Spirit fill anew!

The Beast broke free, love set him whole,
While I remain, a Phantom soul.
His curse was lifted, his heart now sings,
But my humanity only stings.

No mask of fur, no monstrous guise,
Just human hands and hollow cries.
A heart that yearns, a fate unkind—
A curse of flesh, a shattered mind.

The Beast found joy, his pain released,
But I, unmasked, am still the beast.

I have poured out my love,
yet you never seem full.
I have shown much care,
yet you still couldn't see.
I have always been with you,
yet you still say you're all alone.
I have fought for you,
yet the battle seems unending.

And there I was feeling empty,
defeated, and unloved,
as I have been watering a dead plant.

So I decided to walk away,
and there I realized and saw
I am meant for so much more,
that there is a lot in this world and that it is so big,
than to settle for the crumbs of love
you find so hard to give.

Thrill seeker me
I jumped of a kerb
Me and my tiny
Brain thought
It was superb.
Life don’t exist
If you say
I can’t
Take it from me
This thrill seeker
Ant

It's been a minute,
Time has been short,
And hard to come by.

But don't think I'm giving up,
On all the work you gave me,
And all the dreams we're making.

Jack the stripper
Liked to ****
While
In the ****
With his women
He didn’t grapple
Just slit there throats
In sunny Whitechapel.
Jack looked good
in his birthday suit
Liked them young
Liked them cute
Killing naked
Was his way a
Serial killer at night
A stripper by day.