Carmen-Francesca Banciu – Corona Blues



Carmen-Francesca Banciu was born in Romanian Lipova and studied religious painting and foreign trade in Bucharest. As a result of being awarded the International Short Story Award of the City of Arnsberg for the story “Das strahlende Ghetto” (1985), she was banned from publishing her work in Romania. In 1991 she accepted an invitation extended by DAAD Berlin Artists-in-Residence program and came to Germany. She has been living in Berlin since 1992, employed as a freelance author writing articles for the radio and newspapers as well as leading seminars for creativity and creative writing. Since 2013 she has acted as the co-editor and deputy director of the transnational, interdisciplinary and multilingual e-magazine Levure Littéraire. Banciu has received numerous literature prizes and scholarships; most recently her novel Lebt wohl, Ihr Genossen und Geliebten was nominated 2018 for the German Book Prize. Her work has been translated into many languages.

Corona Blues

I let the poem in
No one else comes by
For one year no one comes by
For years
Gone is the time
Since someone came
Easter Sunday

I toast with my loved ones
My glass touches the screen
We play egg-killing
We want to kill the Easter Egg
Knock it against the computer screen
The egg remains intact
On the screen
Our glasses
Our lips meet
The glasses remain intact
The mouth unkissed

In a house in this city
In front of their screen
The most loved ones sit
The big table is set
The lamb sacrificed
The food steaming
The Easter bread fragrant

Not far in this city
My loved ones
Everyone in front of their screens
We all do the same thing
We are together
Together separated
On the table
We look for crumbs
Crumbs of the past
Only our longing
Stains the tablecloth

Wewelsfleth, in the house of Günter Grass, April 2021

Corona Blues

Ich lasse das Gedicht herein
Keiner kommt sonst vorbei
Seit einem Jahr kommt keiner vorbei
Seit Jahren
Vorbei ist die Zeit
Als noch jemand kam

Mit den Liebsten stoße ich an
Mein Glas berührt den Bildschirm
Wir spielen Eier-kippen
Schlagen das Osterei tot
Gegen die Mattscheibe
Und das Ei bleibt unversehrt
Auf der Scheibe treffen sich
Unsere Gläser
Unsere Lippen
Unversehrt die Gläser
Ungeküsst der Mund

In einem Haus dieser Stadt
Vor ihrem Bildschirm
Sitzen die Allerliebsten
Gedeck ist die große Tafel
Geopfert das Lamm
Dampfend die Speisen
Das Osterbrot duftend

Nicht weit in dieser Stadt
Meine Liebsten
Jeder vor seinem Bildschirm
Wir alle tun das Gleiche
Wir sind zusammen
Zusammen getrennt
Auf dem Tisch
Suchen wir Krümel
Die Krümel der Vergangenheit
Nur noch die Sehnsucht
Befleckt die Tischdecke

April 2021, Wewelsfleth

© Carmen-Francesca Banciu