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Best Poems Written by Vasile Serban

Below are the all-time best Vasile Serban poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Vasile Serban Poem

If only I knew how to stop dying

If I knew not to die in life,
For I have died so many times,
I would turn to stardust,
To be forever immortal.

I would turn into darkness
Not to see my shadow anymore,
And let my eyes be the moon
What lights up the heavy night.

I would change into pure water
To flow downhill from the spring,
To kiss the sea at dawn
And then to rise to the clouds.

I would become a grain of sand,
For the wind to carry me away,
And finally eternity
To turn me back in to a human

Details | Vasile Serban Poem

A shooting star

A tombstone is my thought,
I made my tomb out of thoughts
I knitted my shroud from hundreds of ideas
And out of sadness I finished my coffin.

I buried myself in the sunrise
When no one was outside
Just me, a small and insignificant creature
I was cooling my feet in death.

I wandering with the shadow of the spirit, the moon
I then stopped at each star
I wanted to forget the earth
For no one wept at my death.

I absolutely twinned with the Universe
To invent a new star together
In which we do not put thoughts,
And I will lie forever in it.
*
I involuntarily remembered the past
When I saw your face in stardust
And on the day when I was working a corner of a star
I decided to visit your land.

But moments had turned into hours
And the days turned into years,
And I had traveled thousands of years
When I got to see the earth again.
 
From above, from the sky full of stars
I sought to see your face again,
But because I didn't find you anymore
Out of grief, I threw myself into the sea.

Details | Vasile Serban Poem

Ghost

I am cold and I drive myself away
From a grave made of clay
With yellow-colored edges,
And the earth as its lid.
	
I am cursed to accept myself...
A ghost with eyes and bones,
I am walking weak among the graves
While crying out some words.
		
Like a field holds a scarecrow,
The cemetery holds me in its arms
To drive away from the sacred graves
The old women from the crosses.

The priest scolds me in distress
For wandering at night through the city
With just my linen shirt
And a candle like a thread.
	
I am guilty of my sad night
That weighs upon my non-existence...
I am a ghost created from the rain
That washed my grave away.