Disconnect
and if the server crashed
would I still be a poet?
and if the Internet crashed suddenly
in the whole wide world,
who’s going to ever hear of me?
I would like a law
to forbid poetry in public,
to have to go in specially designed places
with a pencil and a piece of paper
to write only for myself
as if my poem were
an engagement ring
a vow for love.
I’ve been hurting my soul
on a piece of paper
in a puddle of words
you call it clichee
a hole
or a whole lot of nothing
while poetry is
a crosswalk
between life and death
or a wild boar chased by bullets
in a pristine forest
My writing is not
a simple pastime
but a dedication for God
Who sometimes puts his palm
on your forehead
Woman
even if Life is a hospital
where people treat you
with drops of Indifference
while Death counts souls
if the Internet crashed
I would walk barefeet in the dust
to feel the cold body of my ancestors
or I would shave my head
so that nobody notices
how beautifully it snows
I would stop this talking
[...] Read more
poem by Ionuţ Caragea from M-am născut pe Google (2007), translated by Ioana Tirtirau
Added by Ionuţ Caragea
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