To Vasile Pârvan
In every hollow was seated a god.
If a stone cracked, quickly they brought and put there a god.
It was enough to have a bridge collapse to seat upon that empty place a god,
or, on the driveway, to have a pothole in the tarmac appear just to make sit there a god.
Oh, do not cut your hand or foot,
by mistake or purposely.
At once they’ll put into the wound a god,
like everywhere, all over the place,
they will seat there a god
to worship him, for he
defends all that which separates from self.
Be careful, warrior, don’t lose
your eye,
because they’ll bring and seat
into its socket a god
and he will stand there, petrified, and we
shall move our souls singing his glories…
And even you wlll stir your soul
exalting him like strangers.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
