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Air Symphony

Doina Uricariu  the glass book

On the air ridge,
Listen to your own heartbeat,
Your breathing fills the beehives of the heights.
On the last step of the ladder leading to the sky,
You float here, in the honey of light,
Mountain and man,
Who is free and who feels a prisoner?

 Inhabitants of a weather vane, still,
The drunken heights are tamed by the lime sky,
Inside, the house hosts the world and all its cardinal points,
Light is like an altar.

You are happy, happy rooms,
A folding screen multiplied in the honey of light.
The house like a compass on the ridge of the mountain,
Sharing with your soul the steps up to the heights.

 Domesticated beast, the keyboard of walls
Ivory horizons in ivory walls, like bee pollen.
The house climbs the mountain ridge together with you
and listens to the masterful air symphony
sound, sound, and sound, and height,
The domesticated beast
Spins the silk air.
Its soul on the mountain ridge,
In the honey of the glassy light,
Within the walls of air of the only and lonely house

It weaves the mountain ridge.
Distance brought close to the chest, next to the heart.
Defended by a fortress of the air.
In the wildest and most domestic

Who plays the air symphony?
Who lowers the blessed height down from the sky^
Like a God-given foundation, who keeps us,
The air-weaved tent holds us all,
Domesticated beast,
Air overture.
Mountain and man.
Ladder to the sky.
Height begetting height.

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