Featured Poem


O Lord,
if only I could rest in a mountain sanatorium
among pink and blue pills,
a sanatorium with a strong scent of fir trees
and soft carpets,
with coquettish, neurotic ladies
suffering from nice, small, conjugal conflicts.
If only I had a trauma like measles,
the pitter of a summer shower,
a neurosis like silk,
after which you are even more loved;
a neurosis like the steam of chamomile tea,
after which you’re even more dazed,
and then the tide of your femininity assaults the world,
cures it, gives it the thrills of a treasure known only to it.
If only I could find rest in all life’s scenarios,
in the diverse, simple, honest crannies
where there’s just a bed in which to sleep
and a bucket in which to vomit up
every last thing that, giving me,
you took away, o Lord,
to vomit up incessantly.

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About the translation:
Mariana Marin
Claudiu Komartin, Stephen Watts
Original language:
2013 Number 2 - Between Clay and Star

About the author

Original poet

Mariana Marin

Mariana Marin was born in 1956 in Bucharest and by the time of her sudden death in March 2003 was recognised as one of Romania...

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Claudiu Komartin

Claudiu Komartin, born in 1983, is a Romanian poet and translator. His fourth book, Cobalt, came out in May 2013. Between 2011...

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Stephen Watts


Stephen Watts

STEPHEN WATTS is a poet, translator and long-time contributor to MPT. He has recently co-translated Golan Haji’s A Tree Whose...

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