Literary Yard

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‘Aschenbach’ and other poems by Ioana Cosma

By: Ioana Cosma


Loving what’s beautiful is
What is left of the soul’s journey
If it were to escape relativity if
It were to recant the evil done
To others and to oneself
It would decline the cup offered
In extremis
It would complete the trip
With an exhausted yawn
On a deserted beach.
The soul can only gorge on
Images of itself as long as
Love’s not lost of the image reflection.

With an immortal and ageless soul
Aschenbach sat himself for the last time
To admire the long neck of ivory
The soft curls of gold
Of Tadzio.

The sigh for youth’s age lost
For Europe’s innocence
For the heart’s sanity.



pored the symbol
read the verse
uttered sounds
of wisdom.

left for London
in a blink
learnt the language

Made discoveries
All life’s honors
Early on.

Visionaries’ dream
Went far
Like wings.

Lived in god’s world
Woke up
Too late.


Piccola Piedra

Intangible unattached
You wait for
A sculptor’s hand

A life yet to be lived or perhaps
Not lived at all
Renouncing the decorum
And the soothing sea
Incandescent and crude
like a geranium.

forgetting most things
forgiving even more
trying to please.
a heart on fire and
a soul at angels’ feet

not much to say about this
the mute determination
of knowing
heaven’s promise and
hell’s regret.



A ruin’s what’s left
Of her once proud gait
Now reduced to
A symbol
A mere line
In a Picasso painting.

After they were done with her
She was left to expire on
The cold monument
With her ancient sin
Printed out in bold type
So that everyone could see and

And then she followed the
Cursed god
The one who always
Gets sacrificed
The one despised and
The one who wore the thorns
And staff
The one who drank wine and ate
With the sinners

She danced the century-night long
To his tune
It was pleasant and sad
Somewhat superficial
For her occasional taste.

And as they danced and sang
For the last time in the
Candle light
Everyone watched
Eager and envious
Not recognizing the two
Ecstatic souls
Who were once again
Finding each other
In the light of heavens who
Were both welcoming and
Forsaking them.


Salvatore II

Drop tongue
Unlearn the word
Draw pagan symbols
Wait for the fall.

In the darkened chamber
Brood over
Long-lost signs
And come out
Born again.

Witchcraft and magic
To endure the cold
To make up
For your deformity.

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