Two Poems translated by Francis R. Jones

Resava
How long can a guard hold out
In the gorge, trained for an imaginary
Eternity, and forgotten in the shingle roll
Of ebbing splendour, in a night of conflicting signals?

Warrior saints, angels of defeat
With weapons of men, a blunted flame
Sings on your wings, between walls
Where the echo hunts a shadow, the shadow hunts a gaze
Staring at a perfect point, and empty.

The icy shadow of a nut-tree, and a rose
Beneath the wall. Winds shimmer,
Great thirsty caravans of air
Over the ravine beneath the guard;

                                    pollen mixed with dust
Is falling on your armour, sentinel angels.
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