Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Of all our wars it is the most terrible
he has thoroughbred horses and black swans
our war has no short-sighted generals
she doesn’t know what the days of an intellectual woman are like
nor the noisy children buttoning up iPhones
the moan of the Japanese nights their color faded
they bring us to the comfort zone
then we had 10 lovers their unique names and the way they eclipsed
they made me more attractive (maybe you don’t have sex appeal)
I remember the infected railing you were leaning on
and hours with eviscerated seconds
all this comes from an infinite number of ignores
today’s world is prostituting itself
they have a metallic taste of rust that has settled
on the inside invigorating
how can you believe you will arrive in Kyiv in 2 days
when ghost heroes aim precisely
and the sky is darkened by shooting stars
(we fell in love on the opposite side)
Come on, be the one to hand out the ammo
but he cannot write his nights and days on the epidermis
somewhat neutral in a war in which the ruble falls sharply
and I love Pushkin and any AK74 demonically
I feel great
but my blood cries out for peace, is Nadezhda thirsty for you?
(Isn’t it that we Slavs don’t kill our brothers for
east to west like any RoboCop)
War and other trifles by Angi Melania Cristea
I don’t have time to love men with colorful T-shirts
men clumsily wielding a weapon bed
lost in banalities and coffees
(maybe you take time to Roman)
Our common history is about pterodactyls
about mimosa and other trifles
you don’t want to know how stupid he dies
how some nieces and nephews pull on the front from all sides
parking lots are full of unsafe places
of wildflowers and toilet air freshener
this poem is played virtually (you have no grace // I have no grace)
he participates in the murder of the Epicurean nights
any dose any carom
on the hospital beds the sick lunatics shoot
the round moon split in 3 eyes of the sliding giant
to the country with a thousand mothers
(you have no logic, everything is a euphemism for you)
I’m going on a holiday trip without a Pharisee
so great is the heart of the war
so cold frothy
we don’t miss the budding trees
we do not pass the houses of life schools
so we stick our own ribs in the fields
full of heroes’ mouths
by their feet fools and we turn off the lights
(as if it were a Russian matryoshka fairy tale)
the war begins on the eastern flank is too loud vodka ludmila.
Born in the city of Craiova, the poetess Angi Cristea Melania teaches Romanian language and literature at the “Marin Sorescu” School of Arts. She has published several volumes of poetry: (Diz) harmony, More / Less feelings, The stones of the sun. of Pokemon, 777 of appeals, Flori de iris / Giaggioli. He has obtained numerous awards both nationally and internationally. European Poetry Award stand obtained in 2017 at the “Europoezia” International Festival (Braila) “Alfredo Pirrole” Award awarded to Trriugio, Italy at the Trriugio International Festival (2018), received Grand Prix at the Corona Internazionale Award festival (2018).
She has published in numerous prestigious literary magazines and is appreciated by writers and literary critics in Romania and Italy. He received a diploma from the Romanian Embassy in Milan for special cultural merits in promoting Romanian culture in Italy and Romanian culture in Romania
