Cristian Simionescu   |   Poetry
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There Is Music and Delight in Everything

And do not let Arabel get on my nerves
and teasingly point out my ugliness;
the game often turns true,
and at the border of honey the beasts are schooled in honey’s taste.
The steps of music branch disparately,
they do not connect together.
In the floating terraces the face has another countenance,
the ear another hearing.
I surrendered yesterday’s body for today’s body,
today’s body I shall surrender for yesterday’s,
tomorrow’s body is a stake blaspheming itself--
in addition to arboreal delights.

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