A prose poem I wrote in Romanian a couple of years ago, and, now, thought it'd be worth recording in both languages. However, the English version might have lost something in translation, and is more of an adaptation than a faithful translation.Origami în doistând în picioare putea vedea mai bine totul: petala irisului din faţă, bambuşii din spate, profilele bine croite ale broaştelor. auzul îi deveni mai fin, ascultarea mai adâncă.stătea nimerit de bine pe bancul de hârtie. cu aripile întinse şi cu forma de cocor japonez, privea la om. îşi scoase picioarele, şi schiţă un zbor din mâna celui la care privise.existenţele de hârtie îi dădeau încredere. uşurinţa plierii, posibilitatea întoarcerii la începuturi pe urmele trasate. îşi examină mâinile. păreau de hârtie. Origami for TwoStanding. A whole different perspective: the iris petals in front of him, the bamboo stalks behind, and the profiles of frogs as if painted by the hands of an artist.All ears, the grasp was even more profound.Stuck in the paper riverbed, full wingspan, in the shape of a Japanese crane, it gazed and gazed at the standing man. Freeing its legs, it attempted flying from the man's hand.Paper-made existences would fill him with confidence. Folding seemed easy: you could trace every fold back to the beginning. He examined his hands closely. They looked and felt like paper. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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