Textbook of Psychunlogy (MASTER DECREE Thesis), by Florentin Smarandache
Emigrant to Infinity, by Florentin Smarandache
Transcript of Emigrant to Infinity, by Florentin Smarandache
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FLORENTINSMARANDACHE
EMIGRANT TO INFINITY
poetry
2007
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FLORENTINSMARANDACHE
EMIGRANT TO INFINITY
poetry
Automaton
2007
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This book can be ordered in a paper bound reprint from:
Books on Demand
ProQuest Information & Learning
(University of Microfilm International)
300 N. Zeeb Road
P.O. Box 1346, Ann ArborMI 48106-1346, USA
Tel.: 1-800-521-0600 (Customer Service)
http://wwwlib.umi.com/bod/basic
Covers Art Images by F. Smarandache
Copyright 2007 by Automaton, Los Angeles
Many books can be downloaded from the following
Digital Library of Literature:http://www.gallup.unm.edu/~smarandache/eBooksLiterature.htm
Peer Reviewers:
Poet Victor Pun, Vlcea, Romania.
Linguist Ion Crstoiu, Vlcea, Romania.
Poet Gheorghe Niculescu, Hunedoara, Romania.
Translated from Romanian by E. Baciu & F. Smarandache.
(ISBN-10): 1-59973-018-9
(ISBN-13): 978-1-59973-018-9(EAN): 9781599730189
Standard Address Number: 297-5092
Printed in the United States of America
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CONTENTMENT: 48WISH: 49
ALONE IN THE CHRISTMAS NIGHT: 51
THE MATCHMAKERS: 57THE END: 65
ADIEU: 66
3) POEMS FROM MY SOULS EXILE cycle: 68
THE SHADOW OF AUROCHS: 69
EMIGRANT TO INFINITY: 70
THE COUNTRY AND ME: 71THE SAP OF THE LIFE: 72
THORNY ROSE OF LOVE: 73YOU ARE SO SINGLE ON THE EARTH: 74
SYMPHONY IN WALNUT WOOD: 75DONT SET YOUR FOOT ON THE VERSES!: 76
ITS AUTUMN IN MY SOUL: 77
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF COUNTRY: 78
ARIZONA, JULY 1990: 79
Editors Note: Florentin Smarandaches Universe, by Mihail I. Vlad: 80
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Meeting of minds:
FLORENTIN SMARANDACHE
I have known him for more decades and I have known his bookseither in manuscript, or published and I think this new book Emigrantto Infinity, American verses, puts on a solid basis a work and a destiny.
Growing in a literature, which, besides Eminescu and Blaga, gave to theWORLD also Urmuz, Tristan Tzara, Isidore Isou or Eugen Ionescu,
Florentin Smarandache demands himself a modern tradition that he keepson and improves it in accordance with his talent.
His steps are not peculiar; a prodigious ars combinatoria will
bring him a unanimous recognition that he deserves.I consider that the present volume, penetrated by a tragic wave,
represents truer Florentin Smarandache that I, personally, I wish he werecloser of Eugen Ionescu and his metaphysical disquiet, and moresideways of Marin Sorescu and his Balkan anecdotes
Solitary, in Morocco or in America, Florentin Smarandacheconfesses also in this book living, his country, Romanian language, such
as firstly Fernando Pessoa said, for his country, Portugal language
August, 1995 Cezar Ivnescu
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IN THE VICINITY OF VICINITY
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PIT OF WORDS
Ive mustered up courage, yelling
- lions, Ill not give you anything!I gave up the tinfoil verb pitfalland the cruel deeds, its enough!daily life is measured in any minute
by flesh from top to toe.
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FATE IRONY
before may I have been me
the fate was donefrom geometric signsLobacevskys onesafter my face but not looking like me
in dropping of time
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DEFEATED TREE
defeated tree by the sun beam
I let my soul in your palmfor our uninterrupted ways
into myselfthrough darkness of my inner heartovercoming the shower of leaves
being melted into feeling.
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THE YELLOW ROSE
in the halo move of hips
the passing away of the hours splits my plaitshair by hairthe night sleep provokes meto smile the yellow rose
from the lips of the non-uttered words
into pronunciation of countless years
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WHEN I LOOK AT YOU
when I look at you I cant see
my eyes are falling on the slit of dressand I covet the hidden treasures
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BROKEN MIRROR
through the broken mirror
may I view the white darkand into the edge of the shiversmay I imagine a mans portraitan old maid
imagine not to be imagined!
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LEFT FLOWER AND GREEN
you, my left flower and green
pollinated by hell butterflieswith seed of black
you tipsy me with breathingsand the bluest longing
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GOOD MORNING
the waterside daybreak says
and the old ages wentwith the head straight up
guessing epigrams and squaresthe light is spreading tonguesinto trenchworks much cut
from the cheek of the earth
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NIGHT SPIRIT
night spirit from Universe
day and night are blendinginto deep of revelationsdeath takes a napat the spring curing of sins
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SOUL WITHOUT SOUL
and I suddenly see myself so.
without body, without ribs -all by myself without knowing whymy soul choked my flesh
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TOO LONG ROUTE AMONG THE FOREIGNERS
(and I cannot turn back my sight anymore)
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PASSING THOUGHTS
You, power greedy men, starved and robbersPerched on our shoulders as some guards
Im the knight who fights
Starting the battle with a flower in hands
Like, too hung adornmentWill be a sward at belt
I further write a letter
as a punishmentoras a curse
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THE DEAF AND THE DUMB
Being silent you say wise words
Speaking you hide the truthBut we are deaf and dumbInstantaneously we applaud to steps
Being silent, speaking, you fulfil your missions
Applauding, we closed our obligations
And looking for each other in the world, brothersWe leave for home or somewhere
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HEALING
No, not any wound is healed
In my heart clearancethere is a placewhere the fire sunheat, forgetfulness,
love and beggary
Couldnt yet plough
for appearing flowersHere is the place in which exploded
atomic bombsbeing all calcimined.
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PASCAL:
If I judge myself in absolute, I suffer,
If I judge myself by comparison, Im content.
THE MIRROR
After I paced the square
on all its sidesAnd the circle round the round
standing even in the middle
as the first astronomer on the moonSince a peculiar thing
that I can do againfrom time to time
pleasantlyis to be face to face
towards a friend
when he wants/ is asking forto look at me
like / as in a mirror
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A YOKE
Sanding upright
as a yokeand thinking of myselfwhat I should have done
I see silent
I havent done anything
of all Ive done
and it had to be done
Amazingly I look atthe eyes of my fellow man
who sustains with strong argumentthat I did all it was possibleeverything had to be done
And my deeds are placed
from a side of yoke to otherso that you ask yourself
where indeed the bucket is hungwho appeases his thirsty and what with?
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WHAT DO WE WANT?
What we hate at the others
maybe we are ourselvesand we cannot possibly recognise ourselvesOr we dont want to beor we shame or we are afraid to be
So how those whom we hate are
What we like at others
its possible to be us, ourselveswe want to be
or even we areAnd we meet our disciples
What we want from the others
we ourselves cannot giveand we ask for from the others
What we love, ask for or hate
its always very clear and veryvery justified for us
who hate, ask for or love
What we give the others it always is
a blending of the good and bad
In different proportionswe give for nothing
and asking for usalso pleasantly or reluctantly
All depends on everything, dependson the position in which you arewhen you let free the way of the feelings
opening the cage doors of the Noahs ark
And it depends more somethingof the position of sun
against
H hour
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THE GREAT ARMY
Here a Great, an invincible Army,Bound itself with money and hatredWith great and trifling lie
With might fear
Millions tragic destinies together
Here is a Great, an invincible Army.
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TEST AT GEOGRAPHY
The war has begun for long
now it is finishingin a crucial point in fact.I conquered half of the worldremaining only other half
that has just achieved to ride
the other half of mind
Maybe the halves are not evento each other remaining to count
when census can be donethe new and old two halves
of minevery soon being conqueredunder just any feet slipping
on to right the other left
between them dirty river setwhich runs in a clear sea
Far away I see my foeriding upset up to toe
with the two halves splitone to right to other left
making too way a dirty riverruns to sea fast, clearer
Lad, get-up let the questions
on the earth, what battles, oceansall of them are and will be
Youll get test at geography
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The fight martyrs in a just worldHow will you pay sacrificed lives?
And death that woke so many dreams,
Inside of mine is draught of loveThey didnt sow and water love.
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or on the leftYou mock at us rascal
You took your salary, bonus and tip
And kept your mouthYou gather money for car
Rascal
I saw you increasingunder the angel wing
Also Chief but greater
when your belly was bigger and
your baldness created respectYou had everything
but something you hadntI heard on the radio
you chose alsofreedomhow much you suffered
how you were persecuted
that they didnt give you Mercedesbut a wheel barrow, Moskvici
with an unwell-bred driver includedthat is not enough the bonus
for Kent cigaretteshow good chiefs like you
new-technocratsarent let also to make dustthe powder
You succeeded to fall into, too
among large long lineof political asylum
After thisnothing
nothing I heard about you anymore
I came also in the West
dying of my Countrys longingof People(The stupid man dies of care for other
you said to me
too encourage mephilosophically)
I came
with my broken bones again
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freshjust before my leaving
Leave, I was said
not to make troubles moreto our authorities
They wanted, too, the poorto restafter a long lifepassed with the club in hand
in peoples service and of revolution and development, too
so many-sided and coupons
how many clubs they brokelearning ABC
being a burden to uswhat effort
to be colonel today with studies in Rightbefore being an illiterate sub-lieutenant
I found youhere
with new citizenship mumbling distinctlyRomanian
cargood job
half house paid(knowledge is a treasure)you had arranged things here, too
cunning
rascal
I took from the beginningAll
From the illiterate licence
to washing up and washing cars
Precisely:From the fiddle mastersIn the land of Cockaigne
in the world with all of things
I provoked to loose my weightbecause the pearl barley fat remained
and made my body heavy
not being
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enough slim, slenderI slept also on the floor
with hand under my head
as if I had been at JilavaI havent find trousers yet
and shirt for my sizeall are too largeor too shortAnd do you rascal spit, my cheek?
You dont deserve my answer
neither evento spit you
my spittingamong
my toothless as a battle ragged flagThat I give it to worth manbut you
you havent the honour
to measuremy strength
I ignore yourascal
You said to my child
the dearest and the most innocentthat Im a dim of dozenBut how many bucks are you, rascal?
The slops that the lifeand the two
worldsthey threw
in my mess tin
or in my face
they preserved my soul freshin change all perfumes of this worldthey couldnt remove the stink
of my soul
The applebefore letting itself
(it cannot escape)
to be eaten by you
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vomited youand a folk blouse washed
with chemicals of your inside
soul unfriendlyshows
as if it was come out of the sewerof a cityrascalI ignore you
being the unique thing
which provokes you pain
You want to be GreatGreater of all
you are great like a litterRascal with Chief licence
Your lowliness doesnt touch me
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NOBODY
Nobody can polish
The guilty gestureNobody can saveof cursewhat is cursed
Nobody can forgive
the name that lets a stain
on the lips that uttered onceIll hate what I hated
Ill love what I lovedTill the last breathing
in the world keeps on changingsubdued me to order whichancestral asks me for salting it
in everything needs
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HUNTING
A pace, another pace
a leap, further a pacea pace in fronta pace, further twoa pace behind
I let hunted
by you pleasantlyId like be eaten
Any pain I shouldnt beaten
Your paces I seemed them to be my huntingthe paces of the starved wolf.but I found
terrified
that the lion hasnt me eatenLittle
Mousewill be eaten even it
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HOSPITALITY
Dear Lady
You pay a visitFriends, lover, sweetheart,It doesnt matter.You pay a visit
You can receive and refuse
ask for or to give anything
you dont worry, is it?You pay a visit
Romanian is hospitableAh, further still!
At leaving, dont forget in a cornersomething sharp as hanger-onin which by mistake
a wound in heart I make
But you can take alls possibleeven myself
by soulRomanian is hospitable.
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DESIRE
Youve obliged me to wash
The flag of your capitulation LadyIts sparkling, like the dazzling snowAs before it seems to me a veilOf hemp, of flax
Or of a delicate silk
With my longing of sorrow
Contemplatively demands:Will she ever reappear?
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WITHOUT CEREMONIES
Extensive specially for you, without ceremonies, on the white bed,
like a peasant table in the field during summer, under the sunUnder the heating of my infernal sunI am going to lay youFertile earth over the lunar soil
I didnt plant either flowers or thorns
Whether they were I forgotI seem to pull out all in the same time
I havent put the perfume, because it mustntyou smell as life itself and this is enough
On the white bed without brimslike a peasant in the field summer
human-like
I want to be of mine and Ill belong to you.
With trembling hands andencumbering each other
with many and different handsentirely my body turned into hands
being in feverish statusI want to know, to caress, to inciteto separate, to unite
all mountains, all vales, all parts of your body
To feel how mountains raise higher and higher
and vales run deeperto feel everything inside of you becomes longer
projects itself-, infinite, defines
May you close, may you open
and throwing the last your petalsremaining unique, may you yell, may you whisperto sky and to world in any case indifferent
that youthat Ithat we
Then we gather
from all the corners of bed, room,
from the four lines of the world
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and share found petalsthat as if they hadnt torn of us
during this storm
and we do again our beings:one to you, one to me
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YES AND NO
Yes and no and no and yes
Yes yes. YES NO. YES.I answer your questionsand YES when I utterit means I agree
And not I utter it means I agree
Because I can so many
To be in agreement with my own feelingsAnd sound like a bell
marking, waitingdays and new events
And all is like as whenI, audience, I should applaudMe, the actor
at open stage
even on the sharp brimof essential retort
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STRIP-TEASE
If what I wrote about you here
I should write a bookI seem to me that every turned page,Understood non-understood by readerwould be like a stranger
with cold hands, impersonal ones,
I should take out your dress in public
slowly, very slowly or in a hurryattentively or tearing from the sewing
all objects of your dressingand you would be naked, ashamed , humiliated
as in a strip tease.And you dont want to strip,do you?
In front of anyone, for anyone and whenever
You are not courageous to do this becauseyou are impure in your purity
that you preserve like a treasureso saint and too personal
for a moment and special individualsMay I know? Maybe though
You should like and should boastthat you were stripped in publicin comparison with the other ladies
who live wrapped themselves up
trembling of warm all their lifewithout somebody thinks
to fill their shady-side
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OH, YES
I take out of me
all what was able to take outI squeezed, I seizedI tore frenetic and insanityas if Id have saved
the ship to drown
And do you still say that you havent received enough?
Havent you received anything?O Great you are Love
Great how the Sea isDeep and greedy Sea
Indifferent and very arrogantIve been due tothat Ive given enough
and me emptied of feelings
emptied of myselfwith a borrowed word
I yell youNoooooo
ReadyEnough
I am coldWarm me you that emptied me
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COURAGE
When you see you might have courage
You are afraidAnd you wouldnt want to give anythingToo much prudence you put in your luggage
When you see you might receive
Everything you wished till yesterday
You pretend that you dont feelnot to see what you received
When in front of you route is open largely
The will of yours to decidethere is entirely in incapacityYou stutter clear: non-reciprocity
You havent ever see a high wayYour eyes are not used to see
When you see you might have courage
You are afraid entirelyAnd you wouldnt want to give anything
Too much prudence you put in luggage.
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RECIPROCITY
From your soul
nothing overflowsnothing dropsto my soulYour soul
isnt flood
I feel, tooas though I throw myself
by my willin a fountain
deep and left thereAs thoughI am at my wits end
of my own accord.
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PRAYER
God
do a true human being of heragain
God
You who are above of the Good
and above of the Bed
You who exists
in non-existence, too
You who did everythingfrom nothingand nothing from anything
only you know how
You who are good
gentle, lenient and endless of greatall the time smiling indulgently
to our nothingness and defiantinfamy
You who gave us to knowthe goodness as a light
and the badness as an absence of its
May we know we are with youand when we were lost
You who give to us the soul
and heart
and though and word
colour and musictaste and loveforgiveness of fellow man
everything
to havea beautiful life
even here on the earth
and we havent known yet
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Good
do a true human being of her
again
May she be more courageousMore obstinatemay she trust herselfMay she choose her utmost
and have it
as an encouraging
for next stepMay she behave as a man
defeatingGod
do a true human being of heragain
May she be more delicate
May she smile and laughmore
May she be dreamingbecause she is older now
and years passed plentifullyneed more dreams
than nightmaresLighten her nightswith stars of dreams
and days
with sun warmof her soul
pure
God
do a true human being of her
again
May she give sooner, firmer
kindly her warm hand
to those who strugglehardly they stand up their
feeble legs of their life
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Goddo a true human being of her
again
May she be surrounded
only by true peoplemay she be nearer the truthmay she be comprisingmore lenient
living
and helping the other, too, to live
plentifully
Goddo a true human being of her
again
May she be an old woman
truly beautiful
wearing in her hair, on foreheadyears
as a haloin her eyes the light of joy
and in body of joyand her lessened body
the saint sealof quietnessand the reconciliation with people
life
and its aimas it is
God
do a true human being of her
again
Pull her ears or haircarefully, like a parent
with all your love
put on her knees, tooto recall
not to forget
that the other need her not less
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thanshe needs others
and others are alone without her
not only she without them
Goddo a true human being of heragain
Give to her the bread
for whole life
not thin slices and dry, tooForgive her wrongs
without willin the same measure she forgives to others
and forbidher temptation for foolish marriageGive to her somebody
to love
the least I love herGive to her hope
of bettertoday
that withoutthe time of joy cannot be tasted
in plentytomorrow
God
do a true human being of heragain
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CONTENTMENT
You lover unexpectedly appeared
Prince Charming on horse of sheet of paperIt was enough a yell of pain in order to beAnd wholly bathed me in your life-giving waterMy ashes you should light to shake me hot
I thank you for taking with you
In eagle flight to high skies, serenity of silverSo much tired you are
You gave power for time was going to comeIn change it would have wasted
You gathered in my feeble hand the sceptre of my proud anddignity
I was exhausted you give me hope
On my forehead up in hair you brighten the life for meWith you I saw the alive light, pure of eternity
I thank you for bending deeply and gentle towards me
As Phoenix, of my own ashes, of world I promise me to come
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To grin and bear it
(Romanian saying)
Wipe your weeping tear
You can burst out laughingAnd you meet a trouble
People say to make sport of it
WISH
(to an inexplicable upset lady)
I wish
You laughed
You smiledsecretly and kindlyas you remember of an inner joy
known only by you
May you laughwith very large-mouthed
with tears falling downwith peal of laughter
in trills, sprightly, childishly,
with shoutswith shakings and pains of belly,splitting with laughter
healed with a glass of watertill hiccup begins
and you hit my head with fistin spite
and you try to put the pillow on my mouthscreaming:
beeee silent, silent once crazy
May you laugh when you fall illwith laughter
as bewitched by curseMay you see the doctor giving
a pill for sadness
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and injection for sweepa syrup for seediness
beam of worry
something there to heal you pain of laughanything
May you worrythat implacable you will diewith laughter as cancerthat this life is impossible
to live decently
because of laughter
And the doctor recommends nothing
elsethan me as psychotherapist
a little making sportto heal of laugh
May you smile secretly and kindly
As you remember of an inner joyknown only by you
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ALONE IN THE CHRISTMAS NIGHT
I write a letter further
to discuss againabout Christmaswhat weve done, weve madeand especially about
what weve broken
May we see what kind of fir trees weve had
and weve found on thempoor us
poor them
As a prelude in Christmas nightthat for me began at two oclock in the morninglocal hour
on twenty-fifth
I kept in my armsthe last case
a young girlbeautiful Spanish
of sixteen oldsomewhere
a singer is yelpingas a bitchbound at vineyard in summer
on dog days
forgotten there, toowithout water
a sentimentalsong
drunk
the victim of a car accident
a hand, a leg, three ribsbrokenon the right part
on the left part
that the heart isunhurt
Shell be healed till summer
The other escaped safe
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Look it isnt seemed curiousthat in this life
the others always escape safe
when we all the othersare always left with
broken bones, bumps and bruise in headI betThat the ChristmasIll see again
At emergency
Asking herself feverishly
Frightened joy and dismayedIf they will be two
girlor boy how He wants
How Ive saidthe fir free was
one Oregon hoary
from the American Rocky Mountainsthat keeps me warm
temporaryinstead the Carpathians from Arges
I had hung to up top, a top knot
some hopsweak onesbut pretty nice
wasted till in the morning
what a pitythat they didnt last
to the Christmas dayfor celebrating with us and Bach
I had more
hungunder the hopesa favourite
but being an exaggeration
too heavyI took it down
I dont like exaggerations
I let the things such they are
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being enoughFurther I had
a hot hug running in bare feet
but only oneFire
Too muchIt was fire my firI put it down, too
and I put it near me
in my armchair to sit sensible playful
to keep me warm
because it had gotten coldalone
at daybreak
I had moresome good thoughtstoo little explicitly
It was take down these, too
but I told myselfto let more them
it is to able to catch
framecolor
maybe I make from themlater flower on a folk blousemaybe an Ardeal apple
maybe
so I let themmaybe
warythoughtful
maybe
who knows
Two telegramspicture postcards with night
Four weeks of entirely silence
Many doubts
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Odd gesturesfor a Christmas fir-tree
Isnt it?
Two short nice kisses
but only twoI havent morewhat a pitythat you didnt see
these two
were indeed
very prettyquite delightful
to seeAt them
I had furthera silk thread
found by microscope
aid.
triflesbut how much they enjoy somebody
alone with his fir
I had furthera paintingpainted with modern means
on polish paper
with apples and Romanianfolk blouse-old model
still lifebut
what emphasising
what reverberation
what odd tremblingyou can tryyou yourself
looking
still life paintingin Christmas night
Aa shouldnt I forget
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under the fir treefurther it was a poodle too
non-electronic
well, is possible without it?that yelping
annoyingit wants to Americabecause in this way it says when it wants outfor not urinating on the carpet
it is learned
what more
with all pomadesand I kicked it
somewherewhat I need
of pearl capWho has sent it me?Excuse-me I forgot
Further there were in fir tree, too a gambol-boy making gambollingscatter-brained, brawler, giddy, dizzy, frisky, crash, smash
hes taking his tongue to meand pull a long nose at me
but I know, there isnt doubtthis is my sun
he had fixed there, alone hanging down with his headto congratulate me not properlyand with Happy Christmas
to enjoy more
in original kindbecause it is his mode
finally
I began to doze
overwhelmed of confusion
as a joyI heard Bachthe bells of a cathedral from the Danube
solemn
somebody was whisperingMerry Christmas was
At null
I answered and I do
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overwhelmed of confusionThen somebody sceptic came
even so he introduced: I am the Sceptic
who seemed he ha appearedI dont know from where
Saying to me that Im drunkAnd I hear the dogs in Giurgiu
I went to bed
when the people say
that you are drunkIts obliged
Then I dreamt
thatmy face was caressingby somebody
with copper-coloured hair
It seems!So?
I forgot to say you
that my fir-treewas fairy lit
with only big lightlightened by meand with a halo
by you
Your fir tree
how was?
The men, too
needs
ofencouragement!
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And all started
from a marriage offer
at newspaper
of boredom
THE MATCHMAKERS
The matchmakers wrote yours truly,
a thousand and one lettersas a correspondence
of import export
of hight, of weightof colour of the hair and eyes
But not of colour of the soul
Dropping as by mistake few coins on the floor
from where with a sovereign scornthey didnt rise again
you see
how generous they areand
its duty of the servant to cleanfrom down
they didnt complicate with triflesand they turn over their pocketsfor seeing you how much money they have
But not how is their true valueThey sent to you coloured photos
with their houses and cars
Of carton
They sent you photos
each of all more handsome
Even one more impudent sent you his picture when he has his shirta little open showing his chestapologising saying he prefers a sportsman carriage
in order to see his male hairy chest
Not, too the bracelet of his soul
They asked you for photos
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seeing how beautiful you arewhether you have rich hair
voluptuous bosom and slim hips and
slender legs they ought to see, to touchto convince themselves, to be sure
for what they give money and car, tooto whom they hand the market bag, pen and cleanerin Romanian languageand who they pay the plane ticket of first class
to see
if your silhouette is matched
with aerodynamic silhouette of cleanerof the last type
ifthe colour of your eyes
corresponds with the drawingwith the back of the plateof china
from China
if your walking could be enoughundulated
if hecan in this way join harmoniously
the lines delicate curved of furniturestyle
bought from the storeat cut pricefrom the corner
Onesitting cross-legged
at microscopeis studying your photo
hear you confound it!
look dear what are men!
what they can dowith your photowhich you send it
not forgetting your eyes
he says that he finda silk thread
grown in skin
under the nylon stalking
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well-stretched onthe leg he liked too much
Another
Another what?says that he found the same thing
but looking only with own eyespiercing eyehe took out thread penetrating with pincers of eyethat
he likes
legs of singer
that bald-headed
Somebody wanted to know preciselywhat size you have at shoes
blouses, skirts, dresses, coats and pantsall figure fingersfor making you to think
that he prepares for you entirely wardrobe
and further jewel small boxas surprise
meanwhile he carefulwas thinking if the shoes
dress, and the other thingsleft of his ex wife
of whom he had remained alone owing to divorceshould match to youwith few alterations
as today ages are difficult
we live in plenty economic crisisgood things are made with difficulty
what is inside of them is importantnot what is seen outside
he
is at age when he likes
more to lookhow a woman takes out her clothesnot how she take on the clothes
further he doesnt trust in nice coloured advertisements
being natural neo-realisticsurely he was waiting too-thousands of kisses and hugs
hot grateful
for
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his generosityunprecedented
about you
will hear the same thinglater
from a lady neighboursThe same, heraised sentimental and character problemsin the same time
speaking very nice about his ex-wife
of that he has just divorced
in accordance with the principlethat it isnt nice to speak badly about ex-wife
for making the nextto think
that also about heryou will dothe same
to the next
and making intricate in wordsnotions and philosophical high considerations
the sinful mouth says the truthhe wrote that his ex-wife
was a true womantill divorce
she was devoted Ladyin the kitchenthe finest coquette
in society
with the perfect behaviour in worldand in bed
an authentic cooksaying this so at random
in order to provoke you to know
that he wants
as you, too,to be at the same heightmay he be happy once
in his life
as you are good housekeeperso cultivated
well-mannered
careful
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lovelyso his wife was
what
somebodyraised even problems
of your studies for seeingifyou are enough educated to dustyfrom the piano near the stove
properly recently bought
also from the kobsa and cembalo
old, the dearest family memories, toofather and grandfather ex-kin,
which have been lyingby much time non-dusted
in heap of wood pell-mellin front of the family fireplaceunder the tent well-smoked
by gypsy boys
run at the nosethe dearest and the loveliest
may they be eaten by crownswith their shalwars as blue jeans
and entirely
Butany of them didnt ask for your photo with your high foreheadthat is full of thoughts and worries
what do they make with it?
but only one who saysthat sanctifies the square altar of your life with kisses
Only one said to youthat he would kiss you hands
on both faces
and lips
and soleswith the same pietyequal joy
and immense passion
Only one is whod put them at cornerin knees
on uneven letters forgotten unwritten
and hed pull your ears
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or hairof love
Only oneevening hed put you sole on his hot forehead
burning at thought thatyou belong to him, as a sultanTurkish one
Only one cares for
Also of your breathing when you sleep
And hed wash his face with your plaitsIn the morning
Only one would want to make laughTill you fall
Ill of laugh as a doctorWho gives you something against the laughOnly one would give you what he has
And he ask you for
To lend with twenty lei monthlyFor his cigarettes
Only one would look
in your eyes like in a clear mirror
And hed drink only life waterdrop by drop from the tops of youwet by the dew of petals
of red roses
To be, too even one timedrunk
of you
Only one is so daft
so it difficult for you to say
that you met in your lifeeven by correspondenceone defer than him
Only one would dieonly your pains
and would smiles only
so modest
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for your happinessOnly one would give you
the pure diamond of love
without impuritieswithout conditions
and not forced by anyoneand he wouldnt put on your finger a thin and tight ringas sign that you belong to himas if you dont lose your way
to the other(man)
Only one would feel melttill, too
the next silver snowsthat will fall
in the silk of your copper hair
Only one would want
that he is permitted
to go to bad and good bankto change
all troubles and unhappinesswith which the life gave to him
not being thriftywith caresses and joys
gentlefor you entirelyto be happy
a bit
Only one wants to be
the dry club -knotty, black, polished
thin, fine
and firm
of your oldness
Only one today
cries deafening singing
as mountain cockin dawns
and doesnt hear,
too, deafening silence
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of surrounding eternityOnly one would grumble in his beard
All life discontent forever in face to himself
that he didnt give you enoughthat you deserve more
that he didnt deserve you at all
Only one lies you todaywith lie of beautiful words
in delirious
and
that tomorrowhe
himselfand only
hesingle of allhe can turn the lie into truth
and not the truth into lie
And only one can he that
to who the life to sayOne unites Florentins bondwoman
VeronicaWith Veronicas bondman
FlorentinMay they make loveMay they own all life
And joy
May they sing,Laugh
TogetherAmen
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THE END
Its come
the end of the mad daysthe end of demented daysin which the sun doesnt set offso that the night doesnt appear
and day hasnt give the lie
There arent envelopes in boxNothing we have to say each other
All what would have been was goneWe are enough just ourselves
Raise your beard upper manThe beard you stop not more to tremble
Wipe your heavy tear from your eyes
And from your sight the hot radiance
What would have been was goneNothing we have to pay each other
There arent envelopes in boxWe are enough ourselves
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ADIEU
Mary, Great Lady, my sweetheart
Thrifty, shy correspondentso silent and so busyReceive these last linesfrom me
your American submissive correspondent
so much respectful
You dont try the answer
Pitifulto do something whats so difficult for you
an exceeding norm
I excuse you
I accuse you
I dont understand youI forget
Being up
in the tower of the oldcathedral with its big clock
imperturbablemarking the time and spacethe segment of time
The end the beginning
you feel as if you were at a ship helmDistrustful
You look awry, from where the wind blowsLightening
You further cut off by cold order
At weak light at a gas burner a deck
Like signature on a check
To contemporary mankind the isnt well
Dismayed in new crisis he letter is throwing
Not leavingIt falls in Atlantic that drowned it
Nothing can flow
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on the water of the flabby mankindImperturbable I keep on
Imperturbable the march to nothing
In deafened sound of the drumMore one is heard, too by a small cricket
I dont press my waist in corsetNeither my hips I hide in a crinolineMay we fill the non-existent glass with nothing
May we clink from here to the moon
I want to have the pace of snailIn order to arrive at eternity in an instant
You lied yourself
And I dont trust you again.
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POEMS FROM MY SOULS EXILE
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THE SHADOW OF AUROCHS
:No, aurochs didnt die!
Pace on our traceshow we pace on theirsAurochs are in shadow of uproar,they are in each of us
No, aurochs shall not die
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EMIGRANT TO INFINITY
to Francisco Bellot Rosado
The solitude terrorises me in the refugee political campus
with every minute dived in the immediate timein I-WAS. Because I-WILL-BE doesnt occur in the futurenow when Im writing - Im bewildered,
not of poetry, but purely and simply of alcohol
Do you condemn the weakness of a brutalized deserter?I drink; I drink from La Fontaine
2the sacred water
of fables. Yes,
lucky the poets who are unhappybecause they have the lyric status to create
2Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695) was a famous French writer, author of Tales/Stories and
especially Fables. In French language, La Fontaine also means water fountain.
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THE COUNTRY AND ME
The county is a river
with waters so clearand Me a cold springin its bed.
The country is a mountain
climbing to sky ahead
and me a bald rockin its top
The county is a bird
with white wingsand Me an eagle grownin its nest
The county is a verse tomeof peace and liberty
and Me an heroic poetryin its spring.
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THE SAP OF THE LIFE
I am stuck into this earth
and I extract my sap from my forefathers bonesand I give sap my twigsany storm cannot pull out my rootstoo deep caught in the sky of my parents
and nobody can destroy my buds
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THORNY ROSE OF LOVE
His song had frozen in the throat
tyrannised over the gentleness of womanthe people had put fireduring the night of sentimentsand sounds lay on
the dew
The man became a resonatorand his thoughts trembled the house
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YOU ARE SO SINGLE ON THE EARTH
You, Bacovia3, with your muse in ecstasy
Are often followed by a thoughtTo live keeping on your life putrefy
In autumn weather and diseaseWhen the night falls in own dirty and tipsy
Late in the caf almost empty
You nicely create lines of pile
Entirely dancing in sorrow as embers
Unhappy poet sings about lead and rains.
3George Bacovia was a twentieth century Romanian melancholic classic poet.
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SYMPHONY IN WALNUT WOOD
Jungle is broken by wet
like a SaharaBitter frost seized with heatThe chill runsAnd I caress the naked knees
of the giddy bird
like Nietzsche, that bewildered
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DONT SET YOUR FOOT ON THE VERSES!
Kneed for kissing the clay soles
The rock covered me with tearsRunning in torrents shaking souls body by bodySnowflakes become a kind ofrainy snow.
The time doesnt exist but only we are
If the planet would inversely spinthe time would pace behind.
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ITS AUTUMN IN MY SOUL
Its autumn in my soul
And leafy chestnut-trees have tearsMy heart is a large wasteOf bitter stains in smile
On ashes evening way
The destiny sadness floods
The greatest dreams are brokenIt rains over me in houses the dead(s) are.
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ON THE OTHER SIDE OF COUNTRY
A great dark is so that you dont see
the soul near poetryAnd the farther you are into nightthe nearer you arriveat the tomb of the world
the forgiveness called.
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ARIZONA, JULY 1990
Being escaped of the dull past
charged by nebulous futurethis exile keeps on-Oh, America, country of contradictionsmother of stateless persons, deserters and non-adapted ones?
emigrants for ever in their inside
what does it matter for you
a further life, a lost one in this destiny of a refugee?Nothing, than a grain of sand
lying on the ocean bottom-
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Editors Note:
Florentin Smarandaches Universe
I have said also with another circumstance that at a correct
study of Romanian writing we cannot neglect the substantialcontribution of the writers from outside of the country borders.
A special case is Mr. Florentin Smarandache, established inArizona (USA).
Two years ago he published at Macarie Publishing House
the volume of verses I exist against myself! whose cover and the
illustrations of the volume were realized by our dear-departed theartiste Mira-Dumitra Iordache.
Then he published haiku. Now he publishes the volume of poetry Emigrant to
Infinity.Florentin Smarandache is a mathematician well known
owing to lots of notions in the Theory of Numbers that have his
name: Smarandache-type functions, sequences, and algorithms.
Our friend is remarkable in another fields, too, for examplethe class of Smarandache semantic paradox, and as a practical application
and, funny, I quote the device of his paradoxical move is: ALL ISPOSSIBLE, THE IMPOSSIBLE TOO!
He published novels, diaries, and his plays gather manypeople in cramped halls of the theatres entirely world
He translates himself his books in English and French.Florentin Smarandache defines himself as: an emigrant at
endless!
October, 1996 MIHAIL I. VLAD
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I consider that the present volume, penetrated by a tragic
wave, represents truer Florentin Smarandache that I, personally, I
wish he were closer of Eugen Ionescu and his metaphysical disquiet,
and more sideways of Marin Sorescu and his Balkan anecdotes
Solitary, in Morocco or in America, Florentin Smarandache
confesses also in this book living, his country, Romanian language,such as firstly Fernando Pessoa said, for his country, Portugal
language
Cezar Ivnescu
Authors Self-Portrait as Spiritual Peregrine Forever