-from Spaceman Sazartinus’ Diary
by Andrei Dorian Gheorghe-

Artwork by Calin Niculae

Design by Florin Stancu



Every day I go shopping
with my horse.
Our relations are equitable,
we ride each other by turns.
We prowl markets and streets,
and inspect stores.

A beautiful girl gives us
a bouquet of flowers:

“What is your century?”

I try to thank her,
but I can only win a trot derby,
while my horse hits his own head
with a hoof,


To the right, a medieval street invites us.
To the left, the Martian Club awaits us.
Cowboys shoot us,
antique lances pass through us
(but we cannot collect any pain),
robots look fondly at us
(my superstitious horse crosses himself,
I circumspectly scratch my beard),

we seem to be clowns, spies or gods,

and in the evening we come back home
to the pan which boils
with the cocktail of the epochs.


As you know,
said Corelo (the martial economist)
to our group of young astronauts,
a few time ago the Blue Gazelle Expedition came back
from over the Agitated Spaces of Gomez
with a flower in which
you can see the reconstitution of the movie
of your last dream.

But the imitations which were tried on Earth
were frail like a meteoroid against an asteroid,
so I had to go myself
to contract such bewitched flowers.

(The economical advantages are obvious,
in their dreams
people become stronger
and ideals seem to be closer.)

Thus, I flew to the planet Manazea,
where I met Ske (the Serpentine King),
and offered him a lot of products:
invisible polyethylenterephthalat,
polyamidic TV sets,
frozen sunbeams, etc.

It’s useless,
he said to me like a calm wind
which wastes the leaves of a honest intention,
I know all goods made in your solar system.

But I’m sure that you didn’t hear anything about “uchimata”,
I provoked him like a nervous hurricane
which rummages a whole planet.

No, he said,
please give me an “uchimata”
and I give you a package of bewitched flowers.

I smiled because of his unusual naivety
and threw him over my shoulder,
shaking his longish brains.

This was an “uchimata”,
I grinned,
and strangely
the Serpentine King shrieked with laughter
and gave me the signed contract
and the package with bewitched flowers.

Do you understand now
nincompoops -
bighead Corelo finally said -
how you can conclude
an interplanetary contract?


How could I explain this?

It seemed I had seen that statuette somewhere
in a photograph
or in a dream
or maybe my father had told me about it
or my grandfather

or maybe even I had sculpted it

anyway, it represented my face
in a moment of amazement

let me introduce myself
my name is Sazartinus
and at that time I was not born yet

I don’t know why I was there
on that lubricous asteroid
in a museum of old things
gnawed by the time oscillations

what a strange state of spirit
I felt like a new arrival
rained inside by petals

I don’t know why I was there
so far from my house and my birth

I amazedly looked
at the amazed statuette of my face

welcome to the cosmos, Sazartinus


High herbs are towering
the far planet Hewo
like some rebel hair
on the head of a genius.

They are high, oh,
higher than a shy joy,
unbound in immobility,
enthusiastic in silence,
staring the stars of that space.

Sometimes, they shiver
at the call of a voice
out of time,
beyond sound,
emerging from the magic soil.

What hieratic doubts can push them
to confess the unsuspected respirations?

High herbs are strangely waving now -
superb in their dignified sadness,
mysterious in their pompous surprise -
changing meanings that fail
our understanding.

High herbs, higher than a good thought,
set on fire in a fantastic pallor,
liberate stars with tender troubles,
and withdraw again, slowly,
into a silence of revelations,
so harmoniously agitated,
so enigmatically betrayed!


I don’t exactly remember,
we still were on Obial, the terrible planet,
in a delusive night,
or we collapsed in a magellanic cloud
and swam in its discreet depth,
subject to hallucinating whispers.

It didn’t matter for us,
we could easily advance
through any space
and through any mystery.

Although you were real, superb and seductive,
in me you looked as a prism
of fascinating, necessary and
maybe strange images.

Oh, yes, we were
on Obial in the night,
but there was a large place
for dances of shadows.

Under us, a roulette
of unclear calls.
Under us, the planet.

Above us, the enigma
of a silent sky.
Above us, the flight.

I think we were lost there,
my sight was too tired
and too much penetrated by dreams.

It was cold, it was dark,
it was a pressure suffocating me,
but I had to catch you
and was advancing
pushed by a tender instinct.

In fact, I was looking for you long before seeing you.

I was exhausted,
but dominated by
your fascinating, necessary and
maybe strange being,
a silhouette
of transcendental life.

Although you were bright like a stellar jade,
I could just catch a bit of your shade.


Somewhere in Sagittarius
there was a foggy and vague space
(the boomerang of the eyes
could not deeply penetrate),
a strange zone, of course,
which respired the remembrances of the visitors.

Yes indeed,
if you passed over there,
a part of your memory was to be erased:

you forgot your origin,
or if you had children,
or who you really were,
and going out
you began a new life.

But at a moment,
too many remembrances agglomerated that zone,
and had to be expired,
so other travellers felt
foreign events pulsating in them:

about loves with persons never met,
about sins never made,
about places never visited.

I don’t know what the best variant was,
but certainly all of the travellers felt themselves afterwards
to plus or to minus
more helpless with a few thoughts,
more affected with a few deeds,

more confused with a few illusions.


On a somber and extremely unpleasant
intergalactic road
(I had just avoided some wild traps,
but many dangers still stalked me),
I was riding a nervous pegasian robot
which was rebelliously shaking me.

We stopped on a realm, the artificial planet Ronthag,
to rest a little,
but the master of those places, Great Tymack,
wanted to speak with me.

Being a smoother thinking of harmony,
I suggested him to be a good host,
but he defiantly said to me:
“Boy, first you kiss my feet.”

I would have liked to give him a strong hit.

“Now you can crawl in front of mine.”

Certainly, he was not too fine.

“I don’t feel good,” Tymack continued,
“so you have to cure me.”

I opened my laser-sword to cut through his effrontery.

Then Tymack shrieked with laughter,
and ordered me to brush his upper side.
I felt too tired
to be terrified.


Swan Oxylia sketched in space
through a tender swing
a few twirling triangles
which soon after became fire circles.
After a while,
they united into a bigger one,
from which Garthus, a creator of singing stars,
mysteriously appeared.

Years passed, and Garthus modeled a few stars:
Sakota the viola,
Rebosa the piano,
Kalssery the quitar
and Ribdana the synthesizer.

“A new builder of stars in my zone
is too much!”
shouted Asryn, the creator of the Askra galaxy,
straining his forces of suggestion.

Then the singing stars withdrew
into Garthus’ gestures,
he returned to the great fire circle,
which divided into those smaller,
which became twirling triangles,
and Swan Oxylia came back through time
by anti-flight
and collected them
through a reverse swing.

Afterwards all became normal.

Only Oxylia’s flight,
so proud in precedent lives,
suddenly looked discordant,
the song of a
falsified orchestra.


I was dancing on a nebular cloud
escaped from the future.
I was imperceptibly and slowly sinking
in that strange and transparent element.

I was looking for myself
in that dance as a meditation,
a kind of pressopuncture
on my spirit of observation.

Behind me,
the nebular cloud began to set
wrapping me
in trans-lucid velvet.

I was liberating myself
from any passion and from any fear,
caught by the glassy dust
or by an immense tear.

It seemed I could be confounded
with a zonal god in a cosmic sea.
But now, above, another person was dancing,
replacing me.


I never was so fascinated
as when you called me
to play “Chase in Time”.

From then on,
time has become a labyrinth
which sustains our happiness
and where we passionately look for each other.

Sometimes I meet you old,
in late ages which outrun the power of thought
and I am scared…
but you get younger smiling
and leave me to catch you
in suspended pyramids.

At other times, I find you just a child
walking through antique parks,
confused by colors,
and I spread coronets of flowers
on your hair.

You frequently see me
dressed up as a knight
coming victorious from medieval crusades.
You are terribly amused
by my serious face!

But you occasionally cry:
I have a bushy, grey beard
when I hide myself in submarine bungalows,
bent over valuable tomes…
so I have to kiss your eyes
and to become a teen-ager.

We leave without regrets
in the past and in the future
just spectators amazed of our game
as a rocking chair of time.


All these cosmopems were composed in Romanian in 1984
and first published in Space Morgana - Spaceman Sazartinus’ Youth Notes
(Polidor Publishing House, Bucharest, 1993),
the first book from Spaceman Sazartinus’ Trilogy.





Merg zilnic la cumparaturi
insotit de calul meu.
Relatiile dintre noi sunt echitabile,
ne calarim cu schimbul.
Colindam piete si strazi,
inspectam magazine.

O fata frumoasa ne intinde
un buchet de flori:

-Din ce secol veniti?

Incerc sa-i multumesc,
dar nu reusesc decat sa castig
un derby de trap,
iar calul meu isi duce copita la frunte,


La dreapta ne imbie o strada medievala,
la stanga ne asteapta clubul martienilor,
cowboys ne impusca panicati,
lanci antice ne traverseaza
(nu putem culege durerile ce ne sunt adresate),
robotii ne privesc cu simpatie
(calul meu superstitios isi face cate o cruce,
eu imi scarpin barba de circumspectie),

parem circari, spioni sau zei,

seara ne intoarcem acasa,
in cratita unde clocoteste
cocktailul erelor.


Dupa cum stiti -
isi incepu relatarea Corelo, economistul luptator,
catre grupul nostru de tineri astronauti -
expeditia Gazelei Albastre s-a intors candva
de dincolo de spatiile agitate ale lui Gomez
cu o floare
in al carei polen poti vedea filmul
ultimului vis ce te-a fulgerat.

Imitatiile incercate pe Pamant au vadit insa
fragilitatea meteoroidului in fata asteroidului,
astfel incat am fost eu insumi trimis
sa contractez alte astfel de plante.

(Avantajele economice sunt evidente,
in vis
oamenii devin mai puternici
si idealurile par mai aproape.)

Am zburat, deci, spre planeta Manazea
si m-am dus la Ske, Regele Serpentina.
I-am oferit de toate:
polietilentereftalat invizibil,
televizoare poliamidice,
raze de soare congelate etc.

Este inutil, mi-a spus el
cu siguranta vantului linistit
ce risipeste frunzele unui plan cinstit.
Cunosc tot ce se produce in sistemul vostru solar.

Dar de “uchimata” precis n-ai auzit,
l-am provocat ca uraganul nervos
ce rascoleste o intreaga planeta.

Nu, a zis el,
da-mi un “uchimata”
si-ti ofer un pachet de flori fermecate.

Am zambit de nefireasca-i naivitate
si l-am aruncat peste umeri,
zguduindu-i creierii lunguieti.

Acesta a fost un “uchimata”,
am ranjit si, curios lucru,
Regele Serpentina a ras in hohote,
intinzandu-mi contractul semnat
si florile impachetate.

Ati inteles acum,
ne mai spuse ingamfatul Corelo,
cum se incheie
un contract interplanetar?


Vedeti dumneavoastra

parca mai intalnisem undeva statueta aceea
intr-o fotografie
sau intr-un vis
ori poate tata imi vorbise despre ea
sau bunicul

ba mi se pare chiar ca eu insumi o sculptasem

in orice caz reprezenta chipul meu
intr-un moment de uimire

sa facem cunostinta
Sazartinus ma cheama
si pe atunci nu ma nascusem inca

oare ce cautam acolo
pe asteroidul acela alunecos
intr-un muzeu de vechituri
ros de oscilatiile timpului

ce stare de spirit ciudata
ma simteam ca nou-nascut
parca ma ploua pe dinlauntru cu petale

oare ce cautam acolo
la o asemenea departare de casa si nastere

priveam uimit statueta uimita
a chipului meu

bine ai venit in cosmos, Sazartinus


Ierburi inalte strajuiesc
indepartata planeta Hewo
ca niste rebele fire de par
crestetul unui geniu.

Sunt inalte, o,
mai inalte ca o bucurie timida,
descatusate in nemiscare,
entuziaste in tacere,
fixand stelele acelui spatiu.

Cateodata, ele tresar
la chemarea unei voci
din afara timpului,
de mai presus de sunet,
iesita din solul magic.

Ce indoiala hieratica le poate impinge
la a-si trada nebanuitele respiratii?

Ierburi inalte se unduiesc bizar acum -
superbe in tristetea lor demna,
misterioase in mirarea lor fastuoasa -
schimbandu-si sensuri
ce scapa intelesurilor noastre.

Ierburi inalte, mai inalte ca un gand bun,
incendiate intr-o fantastica paloare,
elibereaza stele cu gingasa lor tulburare
si se retrag din nou, incet,
in tacerea lor de revelatii,
nelinistindu-se armonios,
tradandu-se enigmatic.


Nu imi amintesc precis,
ne aflam inca pe Obial, cumplita planeta,
intr-o inselatoare noapte,
sau ne prabusisem intr-un magelanic nor
si inotam in adancimea lui discreta,
supusi unor halucinante soapte?

Pentru noi nu conta,
fara dificultate
puteam inainta prin orice spatiu,
prin orice tainica imensitate.

Desi reala, superba si amagitoare,
in mine erai doar o prisma
de imagini naucitoare, necesare
si poate sumbre.

Oh, da,
eram pe Obial in noapte,
dar se mai pastrase loc
pentru dans de umbre.

Sub noi se agita ruleta
unor chemari nedeslusite.
Sub noi, planeta…

Deasupra-si etala misterul
un cer tacut si parasit de stele.
Deasupra, cerul…

Ne ratacisem, pare-mi-se,
nu mai vedeam decat prin ceata,
durerea vazul mi-l mutase-n vise.

Era noapte, era frig,
era un intuneric ce ma cam sugruma,
dar trebuia sa te cuprind
si-naintam cu ochii stransi, cu bratele intinse,

Te cautam, de fapt, dintotdeauna.

Ce obosit eram,
sa ma tarasc de-abia puteam,
dar ma-mpingea probabil inima-mi nebuna,
si-apoi, ma hartuia din fata
fiinta ta, contur de transcendenta viata,
naucitoarea, necesara, sumbra.

Eram, cum spun, obosit nespus,
si ti-am prins umbra.


Exista undeva in Sagetator
un spatiu confuz si cetos,
bumerangul ochilor nu putea patrunde adanc,
regiune ciudata, de buna seama,
ce respira amintirile
celor care o strabateau.

Asa bine,
treceai pe acolo si te trezeai
cu o parte din memorie stearsa:

uitai cati copii ai,
de unde ai aparut,
daca esti doctor sau necasatorit,
iar la iesire incepeai
o viata noua.

Dar, la un moment dat,
se aglomerau aici prea multe amintiri
si ele trebuiau expirate,
asa ca alti calatori simteau zvacnind in ei
intamplari straine:

cum au indragit persoane pe care nu le-au vazut niciodata,
cum au savarsit pacate de care n-ar fi fost capabili,
cum au vizitat locuri pe care nici nu le-au visat.

Nu stiu cum era mai bine sa nimeresti,
dar, in tot cazul, se pomeneau dupa aceea cu totii,
spre plus sau spre minus,
mai neajutorati cu cateva ganduri,
mai ravasiti cu cateva fapte,

mai derutati cu cateva iluzii.


Pe-un sumbru drum intergalactic
(neingrijit si nesimpatic)
- de-abia scapasem de salbatice capcane
si-nca pandit eram de-ale pericolului toane -
mergeam calare pe un pegas cam nervos
care ma zgltaia rebel in sus si-n jos.

Opritu-ne-am pe-un tarm, planeta artificiala Ronthag,
suflarea-mi ravasita sa o trag.
M-a-ntampinat, dupa atatea socuri,
Marele Tymack, stapanu-acelor locuri.

Fiind un pacifist cu gand de armonie,
cerutu-i-am cu respect ospetie,
dar el, impertinent, mi-a spus cu veselie:

-Saruta-mi laba mai intai, baiete!

Mi-as fi dorit sa-l pot lovi cu sete.

-Acum taraste-te putin pe jos!

Simteam cum ma transform in manios.

-Sunt cam bolnav - Tymack relua falos
si imi ceru, ne-ntarziat, sa-l vindec.

Mi-am scos arma cu laser ca sa-l spintec.

Atunci, Tymack a hohotit,
cerandu-mi sa il perii.
Eram prea obosit
ca sa ma sperii.


Lebada Oxylia desenase in spatiu
printr-o tandra leganare
cateva triunghiuri invartitoare,
care se transformara in curand in cercuri aprinse.
Acestea se agitara un timp
si se unira intr-unul singur,
din care iesi Garthus,
constructor de stele cantarete.

Trecura ani si Garthus modela cateva stele:
Sakota viola,
Rebosa pianiana,
Kalssery chitara
si Ribdana sintetizatorul.

-Inca un constructor de stele in zona mea
e prea mult! - se infurie Asryn,
creatorul galaxiei Askra,
incordandu-si fortele sugestionante.

Stelele cantarete se retrasera atunci
in gesturile lui Garthus,
acesta intra in marele cerc de foc,
urma divizarea in altele mai mici
ce se facura triunghiuri rotitoare,
iar Lebada Oxylia fu trasa inapoi in timp
prin zbor invers
si silita sa adune triunghiurile muribunde
printr-o leganare de-a-ndoaselea.

Apoi totul isi relua cursul normal.

Doar zborul Oxyliei,
atat de falnic in vietile anterioare,
se infatisa brusc distonant,
cantec al unei orchestre


Dansam pe-un nor
evadat din viitor.
Ma afundam imperceptibil, lent,
in norul ciudat, transparent.

M eliberam de orice patima
in acest dans-meditatie
ce imi presopuncta
spiritul de observatie.

In urma mea,
norul usor se strangea,
in stravezia-i catifea.

Ma eliberam
de orice patima
prins in sticlosul abur
sau poate-ntr-o imensa lacrima.

Mi se parea ca pot fi confundat
chiar c-un al zonei zeu.
Dar, vai, acum deasupra,
altcineva dansa in locul meu.


Nicicand nu m-ai fascinat
ca-n clipa-n care m-ai chemat sa ne jucam
de-a leapsa in timp.

timpul ne-a devenit un labirint
unde ne cautam frenetic
si care ne intretine fericirea.

Uneori te intalnesc batrana,
in epoci tarzii
ce ne intrec puterea gandului
si ma sperii…
Dar tu intineresti zambind
si te lasi prinsa in piramide suspendate.

Alteori te aflu doar copila,
plimbandu-te prin parcuri antice,
ametite de culori,
si-n plete iti astern cununi de flori.

Tu ma vezi adesea
imbracat cavaler,
venind invingator din cruciade medievale.
Te inveseleste grozav
chipul meu serios.

Cateodata plangi:
imi creste barba deasa si carunta undeva departe,
ascuns in bungalow-uri submarine,
plecat asupra unor tomuri rare;
dar eu, redevenind adolescent,
iti sarut ochii inlacrimati.

Lasam fara pareri de rau
in urma si in viitor
doar spectatori uimiti de jocul nostru
ca un balansoar al timpului.


Toate aceste cosmopoezii au fost compuse in 1984 si publicate initial in romaneste
in Morgana Spatiala - Insemnarile de Tinerete
ale Astronautului Sazartinus (Editura Polidor, Bucuresti, 1993),
primul volum din Trilogia Astronautului Sazartinus

© 2008 SARM
(Romanian Society for Meteors and Astronomy)