Oana Avasilichioaei
from We, Beasts

Song of the Noble One

— Here, a bell frolics night's cares
— The noble one sows shadows and fish

— Here, a river hardens the marrow of grasses
— The noble one scythes shadows and fish

— Here sleeps a blackbird above looted battlements
— The noble one salts shadows and fish

— Here, an old twisted sign guides the senoras
— The noble one simmers shadows and fish

— Here, a city lies to a child
— The noble one cuts into shadows and fish

— Here, defunct islands sell their driftwood, stones, years
— The noble one satiates with shadows and fish

— Here, a tower bleeds ivies and birds
— The noble one snoozes after shadows and fish

— Here live porches, landings, lemon trees fed by fresh waters. There the hunter, greenery, a horse, the small stream with its one boat. There sad eyes, a man with his snake cures and bread. And the noble one sowing shadows and fish.

 

Song of Songs
— Here wakes a smothered hearth, threaded in shadows of gold
— Ah, and I sing with silence of fortifications
— Here burns light's mouth, perfumed by embattled tresses
— Ah, and I sing the lost Moors
— Here we learn from the nightingale, learn from the river, from wind, even from furrows
— Ah, and I sing with the shyness of March
— Here blood clots in the ancients' songs, song of the bull
— Ah, and I serenade cunning with might
— Here living is windmilled, no trajectory, but backbone, the simplest melody
— Ah, şi eu cânt, eu cânt

 

The Soldier's Song
— Sky leaden with the currency of blue eyes, the approaching sob of snow,
of bone
Nevermore will the king's wonderment be ours
— Coast fans out, we follow its trajectory, sabers dead in our hands
Nevermore will the king's wonderment be ours
— Passage holds onto a promise, cinched tight as the promise of a golden ring
Nevermore will the king's wonderment be ours
— Sleep with violins, awake with pelicans, we are forgetting the living ways
Nevermore will the king's wonderment be ours
— A colour's currency means "beautiful." If we mortar the sabers can our coast be a time of rose?

 

Song of the Beautiful
— Some will coast the sea, lizards in hand, sail in a ship fashioned by duels, axes and sands.
Beautiful one, come here and dance.
— Where the sea pounces, enters the dance, they go windward in the fray of songweed.
Beautiful one, come dance.
— They wonder how the sea enters their eyes, demand adieus from an old friend, the wandering goldfinch.
Beautiful one, come here and dance.
— In their organs they hold the sea, elixir of ruby wine bridging their veins.
Beautiful one, come dance.

 

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These Songs are from We, Beasts, a rhizomatic exploration of telling and untelling (Wolsak & Wynn, 2012). The Songs are transformations (effervescences) of the lexicon and music of poems by Galician poet Álvaro Cunqueiro in Herba aquí ou acolá (Galaxia, 1991).