Angela Marinescu 


Field of Force

The Dwarf



A dark waste. The cavity of the chest,

filled with tufts of frozen grass, becomes a temple.

On religious evenings, the angels cast

Unclouded looks.

Man hastening to the hopelessness

Of woman. Woman casting out of herself

Her self.

Violet objects trembling, suspended

In the stony night.

translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Mihaela Anghelescu Irimia


Field of Force

Laws like drops of alien blood

steal through my brain

likenesses of evil and ice

tied by ice ropes to the marrow of my spine.

The sea shore I can no longer respond to,

except as a desert, vast, useless.

or any other place in nature

that Iíve uprooted from my gaze

and destroyed.

I can no longer respond to the stillness of the starry sky.

Everything seems to me shrillóevilís screech

which undoes being, which displaces objects.

The mountain itself swarming with vultures

appears a hunchback, strange and black,

while any sun-speckled hill rising to the roof of my mouth

disgusts me with nausea.

I feel the limits of the otherís thinkingó

no one can possess me, I can possess no one.

God, my deeds like venomous snakes

coil so tightly around my throat I can speak no more

than a single extended word. Ashes without end

inflame my eyes,

between the long bars blasphemy sneaks in.

I can no longer recognize anyone else, only my own self.

Sweat forms icy beads along my spine:

whatever I may have done is with You in my brain.

translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Mihaela Anghelescu Irimia


The Dwarf

Every evening madness

Comes calling at my house

In the guise of a dwarf, his face white,

Eyes huge and gray.

Every evening I light the fire then,

I blow as hard as I can into the pinpoint

Embers, and a calm warmth


The dwarf sits down by the fire.

I want to shove him into the embers.

So at last heíll die.

But the dwarf keeps on returning

Day after day, with a patience

That appalls me.

translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Mihaela Anghelescu Irimia



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