You are currently browsing the monthly archive for februarie, 2009.
The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government –
signs for all to see.
I can’t run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring …
You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
Astazi… senzatia ca am uitat cum arata frumusetea. Ma pierd.
Si dor.
“Singurul organ de contact cu existenta e acceptarea, e iubirea. De aceea frumusetea si realitatea sunt identice.”
Cred ca am citit asta la Simone Weil, nu mai stiu sigur.
Fara acceptare, universul in care traim e cel conceput de imaginatia noastra, nu cel creat de Dumnezeu.
“Este un lucru ciudat sa descoperi ca esti iubit, cand tu stii ca in tine nu exista nimic sa fie iubit, afara de un parinte sau de Dumnezeu.
…
Noi nu suntem ai nimanui, nici macar ai nostri.
…
Ne aflam in acelasi desert, cautand probabil aceleasi ochiuri de apa, ascunse privirii, si eram mereu singuri.
…
Credinta s-a prins de mine ca o boala molipsitoare. Credinta s-a abatut asupra mea la fel ca dragostea.”
Lecturi de demult: Graham Greene, Sfarsitul unei iubiri
“Iată, stelele intră în lume
deodată cu întrebătoarele mele tristeţi.
Iată, e noapte fără ferestre-n afară.
Dumnezeule, de-acum ce mă fac?
În mijlocul tău mă dezbrac. Mă dezbrac de trup
ca de-o haină pe care-o laşi în drum.”
Psalm, Lucian Blaga
Universuri paralele. Ne intersectam din cand in cand, dar vremelnic. Dar locurile in care ne atingem raman marcate pentru totdeauna.
Iubirea ca patima.
Iubirea ca libertate.
Iubirea ca liniste. Ceasul in care mintea si inima nu se mai lupta.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,’The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines , Pablo Neruda
“Iti multumim pentru binefacerile Tale aratate si pentru cele ascunse”
Mereu uitam de cele ascunse.
ma voi intoarce la cartile mele, la lumea mea, sper sa o gasesc tot acolo.
la mine. sa nu mai fie gol si intuneric, ci numai omuleti care beau ceai si danseaza.
