Posted by: tsopr | February 16, 2009

Clelia Ifrim, Romanian Poet

Clelia Ifrim is a member of IWA – International Writers and Artists Association (USA). Her essays and poetry (Haiku, Haibun, Tanka, and Sonnets) were translated and published in many international magazines and anthologies, among them: “Haiku – poetry ancient and modern” by MQPublishing, London, 2002. She is the author of four books: The Skaters (haiku), The God’s Relatives (novel), Dove Zone (sonnets), and Centre of Excellence (drama). She has received various awards for her works such as the Special Prize, Itoen new haiku, Tokyo, 1994; a nomination for the best Romanian play of 1994; a Jury’s Prize, Itoen new haiku, 2000; and the First Prize of the ‘KO’ magazine, Nagoya, 2008. One of her poems was selected by JAXA – Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency – to be stored on the space module KIBO (Hope) in the International Space Station.

 

                                Featured Poetry of Clelia Ifrim

 

Lighter than the wind

 

Lighter than the wind

under the arm pit of my star I sit.

The light from the lost garden

is one of my air children.

They laugh and are playing in the sunrise

and when it is the time to leave

they make their farewell.

But the last born doesn’t leave-

she remains with me, there,

under the arm pit of my star,

in a light cave.

 

 

Mulberry tree plantation

 

It is not good to look

at the mulberry tree plantation

in the sun light.

You could see

the earth way of the dust.

It is not good to look

at the mulberry tree plantation

in the sun light.

You could see

those chrysalides-

people of the silk,

carrying on their back

the bags full of mulberry  tree leaves,

and every day praying,

to pass this summer, too.

 

 

The ones who remain

 

My kitchen is between the two rooms.

On the left hand is my daughter’s bedroom.

Always it was the Angel’s Bedroom

and she lent it me ,that I stay here,

to write by the window

and to look at the gate of the sky.

The kitchen is between the two rooms.

On the right hand is the living room.

I take no count of this name.

I am sleeping here, in a double bed,

looking at the lighting candle

on the writing table of a poet.

The kitchen is between the two rooms,

in an open field, in an open summer.

I stay home, waiting for the others. 

 

 

The three doves

 

The best place is by the window.

Thus, all the house remains

on my right  hand side,

as if I should can bear it

on my right shoulder.

I try to make a place, for the doves, too.

There, between the flesh and blood bonds

I have inaugurated a grains shop for the birds.

I feel no load.

But times to times

the three doves coming together,

and then, just two of them,

and one day, just one,

and on a morning, no one.

The best place is by the window.

Thus, all the sky is on my left hand side,

as if I should can bear

on my left shoulder

the grave of the three doves.

 

 

The soul

 

The lift ascends from the floor to floor,

from the heaven to heaven.

It’s heard the children laughing,

and lightly running on the stairs,

and the first of them,

opening the door of the lift,

at the last floor ,

and with rose cheeks  he tells you,

I have arrived before you

and waited for you.

 

 

Under the open sky

 

I share the day light

for to write and to look at the birds

on the high sky.

The flowers also have a right about me.

I share the day light

for the dark of the roots.

The water has 24 equal measures

for the all hours.

I share the day light

for the evening moving picture.

In the middle of the city,

the cinema-garden was transformed

in a night asylum.

I share the day light

with an artist who asks nothing-

he looks in his dream

for the address of a friend.

 

 

Copyright © 2009 Clelia Ifrim

  

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Responses

  1. Wonderful poems!


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