Thursday, December 31, 2009

La multi ani

I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon,
at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love,
ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

Asculta mai multe audio Muzica

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Sunday, December 20, 2009

cai/ horses

Liniste rece, zapada peste tot, nimeni pe drum... 
Sa merg mai ma intorc?... 
Departe, de undeva , pe deasupra padurii, razbate forfota orasului - 
agitatia de Craciun imi da fiori pe sira spinarii... Inaintez, caii ma asteapta.... 

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Scafandrul si Fluturele

 Inainte de a deveni fluturi suntem scafandri ,
 incorsetati, plutind intre limitele noastre...perpetuu, ritmic, 
 crezand ca asta este libertatea. 
Sfasiati de dorinta ne adancim mai tare, nestiind ca oxigenul 
din baterii are un timp limitat.
Fluturele va zbura tot timpul deasupra si inauntrul nostru. Nevazut.

"Oare exista undeva in tot cosmosul asta niste chei care sa deschida costumul meu de scafandru? O linie de metrou fara punct terminus?O moneda suficient de puternica incat sa-mi rascumpere libertatea?Trebuie cautat in alta parte.Plec intr-acolo."

Jean-Dominique Bauby- Berck-Plage, iulie-august 1996

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Drawings/ portrait/ horse


E frig printre ierburile uscate,

 fosnitoare, albe de atata zapada inghetata -

 doar respiratia lui calda arunca umbre prin aer.

 In ochiul stang , undeva in adanc, 

vad clar galopul lui interzis, inghetat ca o piatra. 

Cuvintele s-au oprit. 

Undeva, tevile din gard pocnesc de ger.


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