Mariana Dan


tables with thoughts, flocks of sparks
around the white dove
disappearing from the window

who keeps watch over my heart
beating inside the seeds
of saints’ hands pressed together
after they had lived their lives?

tables with the insects of thought
scurrying across the surface
the deep slumber of the face
before words splinter apart,
impossible to repair

night is more immense
than you can bear

— translated from the Romanian by Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan