A glosa on “An altered look about the hills” by Emily Dickenson
An altered look about the hills;
A Tyrian light the village fills;
A wider sunrise in the dawn;
A deeper twilight on the lawn;
A warm breeze melts the winter’s chills,
and sun rays chase snowflakes and mope,
while happy clouds draw on the slope
an altered look about the hills.
The spring’s announcers with great skills
poke the white blanket with snow-drops,
while purple blast from crocuses tops
a Tyrian light the village fills.
Reviving magic is poured on,
my heart beats more alive this spring,
its marvel touches everything,
a wider sunrise in the dawn.
Love in the air makes me her pawn.
The spring’s enchantment now is spread.
You kiss me gently. I see ahead,
a deeper twilight on the lawn.
A plant slowly grows in me,
sucking her food from the Earth brine.
Her leaves are spread inside my body,
her stem is dancing on my spine.
She buds in me her purple flowers,
my pores exhale lavender scent,
she drags me out in rains like showers,
and I submerge in bliss, content.
Melting down I splash
my body in rain drops,
hitting the concrete I smash
the evil in me. The pain stops.
As a vaporous ghost
my body is up again,
in an instant I get lost
in drops of purifynig rain.
My distilation in water
makes me inert.
Nothing else matter,
I can’t feel the hurt.
Cecilia-Anca Popescu left Romania in 1993, shortly after the Revolution. Today she is managing a chemical lab in her country of adoption. Burdened with the nostalgia of every Romanian immigrant, Cecilia-Anca Popescu writes in her poems about the drama of the expat and about her life experiences, whose mysteries could only be solved in the crucible of the creative act.
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