A ROMANIAN FOR ISRAEL: Maria Găitan Mozes (II)

Dear Mrs. Maria Găitan Mozes,
I would like to thank you for the two volumes. They kept me good lyrical companionship through the authenticity and human beauty of the voice that addressed me, the voice of a real poet and a character of always vibration. Not a little, I assure you, in our increasingly harsh and confusing world. It was comforting to discover that the youthful and classical form of verse, defying the dramas of today’s poetic language, nevertheless transmits, conquering, the never-ending human drama. It even seemed to me that I recognized a certain cadence and glorious lyrical diversity that fascinated me in my youth and still attracts me now.
Congratulations! The path of poetry today is more solitary and more heroic than ever, it seems. I wish you health and joy in life and poetry, which are inseparable in your case.
NORMAN MANEA
New York, 2003

DOVES MUST FLY
Where have the doves of peace hidden?
Have they been kidnapped?
Have their wings been cut
Or have they been locked
In silver and gold cages
And, terrified,
Have they let go of the olive branch?
…This is the moment
When the doves must fly!
To travel the skies
From one corner to another –
And, we, hungry for peace,
As the one who craves a loaf of bread,
To bring them fresh branches,
So that peace will stay with us,
Not just as a guest.
… This is the moment
When doves must fly again!
Without colorful ribbons,
Without parade,
Without fireworks and trumpets,
But, boldly,
Over the sea of hate
That keeps hurling.
The road is long and steep,
Covered by stumps,
With open, painful wounds,
With stumbles.
But we want for
The doves to fly!
…Our brides,
Without grooms, 69
Widows, mothers,
Who keep crying,
Hiding their faces
Under blackened scarfs,
The orphans,
Who tell their parents,
The first prayer,
Who still believe in life,
And this is our joint creed.
The still shivers
After years of labor
And after years of pain.
But we reach out like men
And we say it whenever,
That it seeks its justice
When hate,
The knife and death
Jump you like a pack.
…We want for
The doves to fly again!
And their white and pure wings
Would not be covered
By the blood of death
And the waves of hate.

Photo: Irina Airinei