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Melancholy pervades all in this wonderful poetry selection written in a crystalline lyrical voice with a taste for urban beauty. Toronto, Canada is the city of the poet’s love and admiration. Nature, in all its four seasons’ splendor, is perceived through the panoramic vision of buildings, crowds, and vehicles as a life-giver and as an echo of the poet’s sweet sadness or deeply moving longing and meditation.
I Love the Light of Sunset in the City
I love the light of sunset in the city,
The gentle touch of the wind,
The splash of my memories,
The ticking of the clock tower,
The abrupt rhythm of our passing life,
We do not hear it and do not feel it until tomorrow.
Tomorrow we remember yesterday or a fantasy,
Or an infallible gesture or a hope,
Made from our passion or a whisper,
Divine and young, under the stars...
I love the sunset in the city,
A diamond on the roofs,
Rays in your blue, restless lashes,
What are you thinking about?
I was walking around the city ... Myself and God.
Saint Elijah with cloudbeard, blue thunder eyes,
In the sky, he throws sparks, shakes the stars,
You once brought me gladioli, what thrilling flowers,
Cried with your tears, sprinkled with shades of red and yellow....
Today, the years of the time seem dreams, the years of youth,
I live an exile of thoughts, polished with the gold of lonely sunsets,
And yet time triumphs, makes promises to me,
About youth without old age and life without death.
Who am I supposed to believe? How did I fall into this trap?
When I feel like I’m a child, even though I have silver hair strands,
On my shoulders the sun was still kissing me, with passion,
It was Saint Elijah when you brought me gladioli and tears.
Hey, morning full of sun, your eyes full of color, Spring,
Paint with azure and cheeks with cherry blossoms and raspberries,
I stretch out my bare arms, in a frantic embrace,
In the air fragrant and powdery with aromas of flower.
May only blossomed in one evening,
When I was sitting and watching on the terrace, the sky overflowed with stars,
Braided on the shawl on my frozen, desperate shoulders,
Under your touch, when you whispered: spring is coming!
On the glossy asphalt my steps are measured, with a slight trot, without a care,
When the wind smashes my soaked scarf with perfume of iris and butterfly,
May intimidated by the nonchalance of your words,
Plated with the sun of my expectations, ordinary...
Born in Bucharest in 1969, Claudia Manta obtained her Law degree and, after practicing law in the Bucharest Bar, she immigrated to Canada in 1996. After a period of adaptation in the adopted country, Claudia had the chance to work with a prominent lawyer—Gerald Sternberg—in a bohemian memorial house and historical monument on Charles Street in Downtown Toronto. The years spent in the law office, the beauty and uniqueness of the city were the source of inspiration for many of her poems. The mother of two extraordinary boys, she dedicated her life to her family and her husband who she followed abroad, although her soul has always remained lyrical and Romanian. Romanian literature and her longing for her native country have never left her.