Flowers of Mildew ("Flori de mucigai" de Tudor Arghezi)
I carved them with my nail in concrete
Written onto an empty, blocked out wall,
In darkness, alone
Left to struggle, aided not
By the bull, the lion nor the eagle
That blessed Luke, Mark and John.
They’re timeless verses,
Verses of ruin,
Of thirst unsated
And yearning for ash,
The verses of now.
When my heavenly nail got blunt I let it grow.
Yet it did not,
Or it grew to me unknown.
It was dark. Outside, dulled down rainfall.
My hand, deformed, in pain, twisted itself into a talon
Too helpless to clench into a fist,
So I forced myself to claw with my left hand.