Domenica Drumea
***
hatred invades me slowly
like a room filled with water
with the slowness of an inquisitor
the october sun cuts strips off me
I lay traps for myself
the satisfaction of skin well stitched
I’ve waited patiently for
the disaster to happen and
it happened
I am a crow with eyes gouged out
I peck at myself mercilessly
Hybrid creature
beautiful things destroy me I
am much older than you
hybrid creature always hungry
I’ve left behind a house under siege
my need to crucify myself
to touch any hand that reaches out
I beg for your mercy
though there is no mercy between us only a
phosphorescent globe shedding light inside
us
in the light of day I disintegrate
hybrid creature without heart
and without sex
I have a twin sister
she laughs my share of laughs too
***
underneath me
a big red stain spreads
I can only live with liquids the
smell of fridges full of food
makes me sick
locked in the windowless room
I let myself be photographed from the front
and from the side
you never loved anyone
I guide myself by sound like a blind man
I guard my bowl
my empty bowl and
my docile spoon
Purity
the day out of which I don’t want to rise
like out of an icy casket
I will die with my heart dry and old
like the hearts of all people
I read about purity
it is the only thing that can take any shape
and can also destroy it
just as my brain
destroys apathetically
any command sent to the hand
prepared
to caress
***
your precise and cruel words bring me closer to death.
I look for your hands,
through the undergrounds choked with people,
I look for your hands
and can’t find them.
I was a girl alone.
I am a woman alone,
at night in my sleep I say things impossible to utter.
when the knife thrower stares fixedly at his target
I sit still and I don’t breathe.
I am a woman alone
moving closer to death.
I desperately look for my hands.
through the undergrounds choked with people,
I desperately look for my hands.
Snow
my life is an endless field of snow..
in front of the window, I tell you that snow wipes away everything,
every trace.
I broke the mirror that reflected me whole,
I can’t stand myself.
don’t ask me why my left hand hits objects,
I can’t stand myself.
my life is an endless field of snow.
making love like you’re shut inside an iron maiden.
laughing to the point of exhaustion.
replace a severed head with another
and your arms encircle me violently and place me among objects.
the sun like an incision on the winter sky.
forcing the limits of control, knowing the exact dosage,
all you need to do is not fall asleep.
I am an endless field of dirty snow.
I wipe away everything.
every trace.
***
cheer me up
chase away my sadness
make me forget that life is a failed sex act
yesterday I was looking at the fields of refuse
the fault is all mine
don’t rebel
let yourself be vampirised
I come to you in my iron sandals
our love is brainwashing
you touch me with hatred
rough wrecked surfaces
a day with even light is a wrecked day
don’t revel
cover me
stay with me a little
Signals
I send out meaningless signals
I was born in 1910
my skin is young
criss-crossed by little purple threads
the tenderness with which you slip your hand inside
and stop my heartbeats
like in an animal sacrifice
we have nothing else but brain
we love each other in a bag sewn at the mouth
we emerge from the winter slowly
expelled
I am dying, my love
press the pillow over my face.
Undenied
take me with you to your places
where pleasure and ecstasy were never invented
tie my heart up with a rubber hose
tie my heart up and let it swell
we cross fields voided of light
a barren scenery in which I cannot
hide anymore
blindfolded
I retrace your steps over the day
your painful fragility
Anatomy
in my heart I have two tubes
for the warm blood and for the cold blood
what was dead in me
has died
compassion spills into me
perversely and attrociously
then the memory like a wound
that won’t close
your voice is with me
your warm voice and your cold voice
then the reptile eye
knows no more
Domnica Drumea, born in 1979 in Râmnicu-Vâlcea, is a poet and translator, as well as the founder of the “Litere 2000” literary circle and of the “Fracturi” magazine. She made her literary debut in 2003, with the volume Crize (Crises), followed in 2009 by Not for Sale. Among her most notable translations into Romanian are Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange and Tennessee William’s The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone.
***
hatred invades me slowly
like a room filled with water
with the slowness of an inquisitor
the october sun cuts strips off me
I lay traps for myself
the satisfaction of skin well stitched
I’ve waited patiently for
the disaster to happen and
it happened
I am a crow with eyes gouged out
I peck at myself mercilessly
Hybrid creature
beautiful things destroy me I
am much older than you
hybrid creature always hungry
I’ve left behind a house under siege
my need to crucify myself
to touch any hand that reaches out
I beg for your mercy
though there is no mercy between us only a
phosphorescent globe shedding light inside
us
in the light of day I disintegrate
hybrid creature without heart
and without sex
I have a twin sister
she laughs my share of laughs too
***
underneath me
a big red stain spreads
I can only live with liquids the
smell of fridges full of food
makes me sick
locked in the windowless room
I let myself be photographed from the front
and from the side
you never loved anyone
I guide myself by sound like a blind man
I guard my bowl
my empty bowl and
my docile spoon
Purity
the day out of which I don’t want to rise
like out of an icy casket
I will die with my heart dry and old
like the hearts of all people
I read about purity
it is the only thing that can take any shape
and can also destroy it
just as my brain
destroys apathetically
any command sent to the hand
prepared
to caress
***
your precise and cruel words bring me closer to death.
I look for your hands,
through the undergrounds choked with people,
I look for your hands
and can’t find them.
I was a girl alone.
I am a woman alone,
at night in my sleep I say things impossible to utter.
when the knife thrower stares fixedly at his target
I sit still and I don’t breathe.
I am a woman alone
moving closer to death.
I desperately look for my hands.
through the undergrounds choked with people,
I desperately look for my hands.
Snow
my life is an endless field of snow..
in front of the window, I tell you that snow wipes away everything,
every trace.
I broke the mirror that reflected me whole,
I can’t stand myself.
don’t ask me why my left hand hits objects,
I can’t stand myself.
my life is an endless field of snow.
making love like you’re shut inside an iron maiden.
laughing to the point of exhaustion.
replace a severed head with another
and your arms encircle me violently and place me among objects.
the sun like an incision on the winter sky.
forcing the limits of control, knowing the exact dosage,
all you need to do is not fall asleep.
I am an endless field of dirty snow.
I wipe away everything.
every trace.
***
cheer me up
chase away my sadness
make me forget that life is a failed sex act
yesterday I was looking at the fields of refuse
the fault is all mine
don’t rebel
let yourself be vampirised
I come to you in my iron sandals
our love is brainwashing
you touch me with hatred
rough wrecked surfaces
a day with even light is a wrecked day
don’t revel
cover me
stay with me a little
Signals
I send out meaningless signals
I was born in 1910
my skin is young
criss-crossed by little purple threads
the tenderness with which you slip your hand inside
and stop my heartbeats
like in an animal sacrifice
we have nothing else but brain
we love each other in a bag sewn at the mouth
we emerge from the winter slowly
expelled
I am dying, my love
press the pillow over my face.
Undenied
take me with you to your places
where pleasure and ecstasy were never invented
tie my heart up with a rubber hose
tie my heart up and let it swell
we cross fields voided of light
a barren scenery in which I cannot
hide anymore
blindfolded
I retrace your steps over the day
your painful fragility
Anatomy
in my heart I have two tubes
for the warm blood and for the cold blood
what was dead in me
has died
compassion spills into me
perversely and attrociously
then the memory like a wound
that won’t close
your voice is with me
your warm voice and your cold voice
then the reptile eye
knows no more
Domnica Drumea, born in 1979 in Râmnicu-Vâlcea, is a poet and translator, as well as the founder of the “Litere 2000” literary circle and of the “Fracturi” magazine. She made her literary debut in 2003, with the volume Crize (Crises), followed in 2009 by Not for Sale. Among her most notable translations into Romanian are Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange and Tennessee William’s The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone.