"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Archive for March 3, 2012

Don’t worry baby

Don’t worry baby

All will be fine very soon

You will get better.


Simply red

deep red

from the blood

running through nature’s veins


nature flash

ephemere moments
when petals kiss the air
frozen by the flash


feel

no passing of time

fades the memory of us.

I still feel her.


Viens lentement t’asseoir , Emile Verhaeren

Viens lentement t’asseoir
Près du parterre dont le soir
Ferme les fleurs de tranquille lumière,
Laisse filtrer la grande nuit en toi:
Nous sommes trop heureux pour que sa mer d’effroi
Trouble notre prière.

Là-haut, le pur cristal des étoiles s’éclaire:
Voici le firmament plus net et translucide
Qu’un étang bleu ou qu’un vitrail d’abside;
Et puis voici le ciel qui regarde à travers.

Les mille voix de l’énorme mystère
Parlent autour de toi,
Les mille lois de la nature entière
Bougent autour de toi,
Les arcs d’argent de l’invisible
Prennent ton âme et sa ferveur pour cible.
Mais tu n’as peur, oh ! simple coeur,
Mais tu n’as peur, puisque ta foi
Est que toute la terre collabore
A cet amour que fit éclore
La vie et son mystère en toi.

Joins donc les mains tranquillement
Et doucement adore ;
Un grand conseil de pureté
Flotte, comme une étrange aurore,
Sous les minuits du firmament.

Les heures claires (1896)


Evocation / Évocation – Nichita Stanescu

 

She was beautiful like the shadow of an idea

Her back smell like baby skin

Like freshly broken stone

Like scream from a dead language

She had no weight like respiration

Laughing and crying with big tears

She was salted like the salt

Offered at big feasts by barbarians.

She was beautiful like the shadow of an idea

Among waters, she alone was a shore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elle était belle comme l’ombre d’une idée.

Ses épaules sentaient la peau fraîche d’une enfant;

à une pierre elle semblait – vite brisée,

au cri elle paraissait – dans une langue morte.

Elle n’avait pas de poids comme le halètement.

Souriante – larmoyante aux grandes larmes, rares —

elle était salée comme le sel poudroyant

consacré aux festins par les vieux barbares.

Elle était belle comme l’ombre d’une pensée.

Entre les eaux, elle était à elle seule, la terre affamée.

 

 


Jeune lionne – l’ amour , Nichita Stanescu

Jeune lionne, l’amour

a sauté sur moi.

Elle m’avait guetté, toute tendue,

depuis quelque temps dejà.

Ses blancs crocs, elle me les a enfocés dans la face,

aujourd’hui la lionne m’a mordu la face.

Et brusquement la nature

se tourna en cercles tout autour

de moi, tantôt plus large et tantôt plus près

tout comme des eaux serrées.

Et le regard jaillit en haut,

arc-en-ciel coupé en deux,

par l’ouie aussi rencontre,

des alouettes tout près.

J’ai porte la main à mon sourcil,

à ma tempe, à mon menton aussi,

mais la main ne les reconnaît plus.

Et elle glisse inconsciemment

sur un désert rayonnant,

sur lequel passe en douceur

une lionne cuivrée

aux perfides mouvements,

pour un temps

et un autre temps…


Chaque heure, ou je songe a ta bonté, Émile Verhaeren

Chaque heure, où je songe à ta bonté

Si simplement profonde,

Je me confonds en prières vers toi.

Je suis venu si tard

Vers la douceur de ton regard,

Et de si loin vers tes deux mains tendues,

Tranquillement, par à travers les étendues !

J’avais en moi tant de rouille tenace

Qui me rongeait, à dents rapaces, la confiance.

J’étais si lourd, j’étais si las,

J’étais si vieux de méfiance,

J’étais si lourd, j’étais si las

Du vain chemin de tous mes pas.

Je méritais si peu la merveilleuse joie

De voir tes pieds illuminer ma voie,

Que j’en reste tremblant encore et presque en pleurs

Et humble, à tout jamais, en face du bonheur.

Les heures claires (1896)


He who dies (Ode to Life), Pablo Neruda

“Slowly dies he who becomes a slave to habit,
repeating the same journey every day,
he who doesn’t change his march, he who doesn’t risk
and change the color of his clothes, he who doesn’t speak to he whom he doesn’t know.

Slowly dies he who makes of the television his guru,
he who avoids a passion dies, he who prefers
black on white and dots on i’s rather than a togetherness of emotions
exactly those that make the eyes shine,
those that make the heart beat
before error and feeling.

Slowly dies he who doesn’t overturn the table,
he who is unhappy in his work,
he who doesn’t risk certainty for uncertainty
to follow a dream,
he who doesn’t permit himself at least one time in his life
to flee sensible counsels.

Slowly dies he who doesn’t travel, he who doesn’t read,
he who doesn’t listen to music,
he who doesn’t find grace in himself.
he who destroys his own love dies,
he who doesn’t allow himself to be helped.

He who passes his days lamenting
about his own misfortune or the incessant rain dies.
Slowly dies he who abandons a project
before beginning it,
he who doesn’t ask questions about topics he doesn’t know,
he who doesn’t answer when he is asked something that he knows.

Let’s avoid death by small doses,
remembering always that being alive requires a much larger effort
than the simple act of breathing.
Only burning patience will bring within reach a splendid happiness.”


I am in my thoughts

Between spots of green

daydreaming or with eyes closed

I am in my thoughts.


“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

Mother Teresa


Children

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Always, Pablo Neruda

I am not jealous

of what came before me.

Come with a man

on your shoulders,

come with a hundred men in your hair,

come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,

come like a river

full of drowned men

which flows down to the wild sea,

to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all

to where I am waiting for you;

we shall always be alone,

we shall always be you and I

alone on earth,

to start our life!


Little things

Little things can ease

The wounds of your soul

Maybe only the thought of

Being sheltered under a wing…

Little things can fill

The emptiness  of your heart

Maybe only the love

You have not been yet given…

Little can cover

Your hundred years of solitude

Probably only

My solitude.


Bird, Pablo Neruda

It was passed from one bird to another,

the whole gift of the day.

The day went from flute to flute,

went dressed in vegetation,

in flights which opened a tunnel

through the wind would pass

to where birds were breaking open

the dense blue air –

and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,

I stayed suspended and green

between sun and geography –

I saw how wings worked,

how perfumes are transmitted

by feathery telegraph,

and from above I saw the path,

the springs and the roof tiles,

the fishermen at their trades,

the trousers of the foam;

I saw it all from my green sky.

I had no more alphabet

than the swallows in their courses,

the tiny, shining water

of the small bird on fire

which dances out of the pollen.


Absence, Pablo Neruda

“I have scarcely left you
When you go in me, crystalline,
Or trembling,
Or uneasy, wounded by me
Or overwhelmed with love, as
when your eyes
Close upon the gift of life
That without cease I give you.
My love,
We have found each other
Thirsty and we have
Drunk up all the water and the
Blood,
We found each other
Hungry
And we bit each other
As fire bites,
Leaving wounds in us.
But wait for me,
Keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
A rose.”

Pablo Neruda


Breath

When

You

Turn

And

Close

Your

Eyes

I

Hear

How

My

Heart

Breaks

Into

Pieces.

Loneliness

Falls

Like

A

Leaf

In

My

Soul.

When

Love

Leaves

Me

There

Is

No

Reason

Left

To

Breath.


The only

When I

see you in the crowd

You are the only one

that sees my eyes

The only one that recognizes

the colour of my soul

And breaths the same

like me…

In the midle of the night,

in the middle of the tempest

Will this ever

change?

This look in your eyes,

my only spark.


Timeless loop

Common sense says:

go ahead

Heart says:

Here is what you’re looking for

I remain

in an infinite

timeless loop

that I have

not the slightest idea

how to resolve …


New leaf

Time to turn a new leaf.
To finish the old
sad long chapter,
to cross over things
which I should, perhaps,have done long ago…
Now, finally!
I feel I’m ready.
Ready
to write the last dot.
Definitive.
As all stories
indisputable end.
End.
Finally, I am prepared to accept the given situation.
Time for an end now.
As I continue waiting
I mark a blank slate.
And every end is a
a new beginning.

——————————

memyselfandela, 2012

 


Flight

Who am I

To tell you

What is life?

I have no idea.

I just feel.

I caress your forehead

So you can feel too …

Time stretches its lead feet

Over our shadows

And yet

It does not nail us completely …

You taught me to fly …

I have grown wings

In the heart …

When i will lift myself

I will take you with me.

Cine sunt eu

Ca sa-ti spun

Ce e viata?

Habar n-am.

Eu doar simt.

Ti-as mangaia fruntea

Ca sa simti si tu…

Timpul isi intinde picioarele de plumb

Peste umbrele noastre

Si totusi

Nu ne pironeste de tot…

Ma invatai sa zbor…

Mi-au crescut aripi

In inima…

Cand o sa ma ridic

Am sa te iau cu mine.


“A Thousand Years”

“A thousand years, a thousand more,
A thousand times a million doors to eternity
I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times
An endless turning stairway climbs
To a tower of souls
If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,
The towers rise to numberless floors in space
I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,
A million names but only one truth to face
A million roads, a million fears
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time
But if there was a single truth, a single light
A single thought, a singular touch of grace
Then following this single point , this single flame,
The single haunted memory of your face
I still love you
I still want you

A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head
I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands
I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times
Reborn as fortune’s child to judge another’s crimes
Or wear this pilgrim’s cloak, or be a common thief
I’ve kept this single faith, I have but one belief
I still love you
I still want you

A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid
‘Til you love me”


I carry your heart with me, e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart).


in blue

losing myself

in blue eyes

which plunge

the very essence of me

to unfathomable depths

of azure

hurled to highest stratosphere

a human rocket

launched by penetrating gaze

of cobalt light sky

surrendering to

blue eyes

where dark lashes dart

flit – soar – dance

as birds above white capped waves                    

on twin sapphire seas

——————————

memyselfandela, 2012

Photo: Photobucket