Constantin Preda
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Suddenly, early
                      to Jessie

And suddenly

I drown in flesh
in the absurdity of hands,
inside, the feeling
of what I am to myself

inside the catacombs
of my moist bones
this day, as me

within the rhythm
of breath that speaks
the quietness inside,

I’m taken,
inside, the hours
used for doing
and the ones for not doing,

I’m taken
waking next to you
again
I’m taken

out into life
triumphantly,
like the drowning
out of water.  
Published on the 17th of February 2015 in "The Cadaverine"
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  • Home
  • Poetry
    • Days of Red
    • A Veteran
    • Why are they laughing
    • A drink with Tom about old masters and young mistresses
    • Antwerp Scene
    • Suddenly, early
    • Metonymy
    • The Sauntering Step
    • On Second Thought
    • Listening to November
    • Apprenticeship
  • Poetry in Translation
    • Nichita Stanescu >
      • To bend light
      • Song
      • Old song for new moon
      • Sad Love Song
      • Love, young lioness
      • *** (to Laura)
      • Through the orange tunnel
    • Mircea Cartarescu >
      • When You Need Love
      • The Collision
      • Adieu! In Buharest
      • The West
  • Articles
  • Biography
  • Contact