On Time, with Love


1. On Love, with Time

2. I am not a story


1. On Love, with Time


The best time I made love to you was

before making love to you

At that time we were holding the hands telling all

to everybody

We let ourselves being watched from above, from a window.

we were laughing, our hands filled with air,

throwing to the others` faces the wiped cream extracted from our ears.


The best time I will make love to you will be

after I will make love to you

then you will simply be

It won`t be necessary to name you any more

I will walk on the street whistling with my scar exposed

and the wind will softly carry the soap bubbles

breaking them on the past pain of the cats` tails.


One thing is simply impossible for me

Make love to you

when I make love to you

Because then you don`t even exist

I don`t even exist

we don`t even imagine that we exist

Together we are somebody`s cake on the moon,

that eats us slowly,

with your mouth, with my fingers,

with my scar caressing your scar,

with my pain kissing your pain,

until nothing of us is left,

until love is my nostril in which you sit

when you hold me into your ear.


Cel mai bine am făcut dragoste cu tine

Înainte de a face dragoste cu tine

Atunci ne țineam de mână spuneam tot


Ne lăsam priviți de sus, de la o fereastră.

Râdeam, cu mâinile pline de aer,

trântind celorlalți în nas frișca pe care ne-o scoteam din urechi.


Cel mai bine voi face dragoste cu tine

După ce voi fi făcut dragoste cu tine

Atunci pur și simplu vei fi

nu va mai fi nevoie să te numesc

ci voi merge fluierînd pe stradă cu cicatricea la vedere

Și vântul va purta încetișor baloanele de săpun

Spărgându-le de durerea trecută a cozilor de pisici.


Un lucru însă mi-e imposibil:

Să fac dragoste cu tine

când fac dragoste cu tine

Pentru că atunci nici măcar nu exiști,

nici măcar nu exist

nici măcar nu ne închipuim că existăm

Luați împreună suntem prăjitura cuiva de pe lună.

care ne mănâncă lent,

cu gura ta, cu degetele mele,

cu cicatricea mea mângâind cicatricea ta

cu durerea mea sorbind durerea ta

până nu mai rămânem nimic

până când iubirea e nara mea în care stai

când mă ții la tine-n ureche.



 2. I am not a story


Looooong time ago

When I was a virgin

People around kept telling me


My mother: don’t wear that dress!

My father (as well as my little nephew): whyyyy? Whyyyyy? Wheeeeere ? With whoooom?

Warren Beaty kissing Nathalie Wood: oh, darling!

My boyfriend Cristian: by the way, my parents are out for dinner, would you come to see my bookshop?

An old woman at the tram’s window: I was young, SO young!


The world was trying so hard to attract me with a certain unavoidable complicity

Every night under the moon my mother, my father, my aunt, Warren Beaty,

my boyfriend Cristian, Nathalie Wood and the whole cast of Splendor in the Grass

would get together and push the wheel of time:

Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Zero!

Everybody just KNEW that the day will come

The day of Tomorrow.


Virgin – unvirgin: I just couldn’t decide.

It was no longer an intimate matter

The World was SURE.

They were just waiting.


In those days I used to cover my face with my hair

And think about nothing

being inside me

just being

alone in my room, in a sunny afternoon, behind my lazy legs

No longer knowing about love


not being anybody

especially not The Virgin

I saw myself, The Daughter, marring a good boy

I saw myself, The Lover, undressing in Cristian’s room

I saw Warren Beaty kissing Nathalie Wood

And the old woman counting the people who would weep at her grave

She was dying as she was old

We all die when we are old


I am pretty sure I stopped the time in that sunny afternoon

When I decided not to be your character

Not even my character

Just to be nobody

A woman but not quite

A daughter but not quite

A lover but not quite

Me but not really me 


I chose to make love with a stranger because I loved Cristian

I really didn’t want us to be some fucking characters of our stories

Of everybody’s stories,

I refused to contribute to the world’s wisdom

So I made love with the first man that made me feel like a woman

than I told Cristian and he got upset

my mother got upset

Nathalie Wood kissed Warren Beaty

Everybody did what he was supposed to do

I saw them all together one night under the moon

Celebrating the day of Tomorrow

The fact that’s how life is

- death.



Afterwards, me, the unvirgin, I chose Cristian

But he didn’t choose me

It is too late, he said

you broke my dreams.


I am happy

I gave Cristian the chance to live

Love is not our fixed ideas


Love is not Romeo and Juliet

Love is freedom

Death is the story we make about us

Death is what we would do

If we were "us",

The fact that our children will remember we were good

I guess Cristian was so tired to be The Virgin’s Lover

He stepped outside the story and walked away

Abandoning his skin.


  poems by Adina Dabija


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