Scenes From Monaco

I look through the Grande Corniche as through an immense halo admiring the art of old Monsieur Cocteau. The light violet song of the Mediterranean sounds like a silent prayer under the paradise sky. The old Augustus troph'ee calls me toward Turbie the exotic garden with vibrant colored spirals. The dilated pupils drown in the orange trees turning to stone like time does in stars and coral reefs. The guard is again changing in the plaza at the palace for princes love the respect of rhythmic, marching steps. Beautiful little sailboats have now fallen asleep on the blue lake that lies there dumbfounded by the moon. Old men are walking their dogs on the beach at Menton as in a sad story of a man and his compagnon. In the night's silent shadows with forever moving angles only the mountain stays up in love with the deep sea. Monaco, May 1974, Translated from Romanian by Catalina Bajenaru

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