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The account

Viorel Boldis

I own nothing
no houses, no land
not even
a bank account.
I trust to the wind
inconstant shrill
I no longer get scared
I own no money
nada nulla nafing
what a shit life
I lead
like a werewolf unaware
of things and vice
lackluster I don’t drink or smoke
don’t make love much
don’t do anything much
I don’t hope or believe in anything any more
I ride life
like a whore
and the bloody bitch
making fun of me gets bored
I ride and ride
but tomorrow I’ll get off
go to the bank
and open up
an account.

trans. by Brenda Porster

Viorel Boldis was born 1966 in Oradea, in Rumania. After the fall of the Berlin wall, he worked as a journalist, and also as a tailor, a night watchman, a sales representative, and a waiter before taking the path of emigration. After a short time living in Athens, in 1995 he came to Italy, first to Milan and then to Cellatica, a small town near Brescia, where he still lives and works. In 2000 one of his short stories won the competition “Culture a confronto”. In 2005 he won the competition Eks§Tra, with his volume of poetry Da solo nella fossa commune (Alone in the mass grave) (Bologna, Gedit edizioni 2006).

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Archivio

Anno 3, Numero 15
March 2007

 

 

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