“There are paths looking for us for a long time
That are reaching us when we’re away
Looking for them on other paths.”
by Octavian Paler, Romanian Writer and Journalist
Translation: Adela Galasiu – memyselfandela, August 2015
“Yes, It isn’t always wise to say
that the muses get silent among weapons..
My words are here and I hold them
as you would hold a spear.
Mother, forgive me, I couldn’t otherwise.
I know you’ve been quiet all life
and I should have , maybe, done the same
but out of our silence
a scream had to gush oneday
and here it is, filling up my mouth with hope and tears
and with a sunny sadness
that is mine, I’m not sure,
mine or my grave’s. But
this has almost
no more importance at all.”
Octavian Paler, Poems
“Da, nu e întotdeauna o înţelepciune să spui
că muzele tac între arme.
Cuvintele mele sunt aici şi le strâng
ca pe o lance.
Mamă, iartă-mă, nu puteam altfel.
Ştiu, tu ai tăcut toată viaţa
şi ar fi trebuit şi eu să fac, poate, la fel,
dar trebuia odată ca din tăcerea noastră
să ţâşnească un strigăt
şi, iată-l, îmi umple gura de speranţă şi lacrimi
şi de o tristeţe însorită
ce-mi aparţine, nu mai ştiu,
mie sau mormântului meu. Dar
aceasta aproape nu mai are
nicio importanţă. “
Octavian Paler, Poeme
Translation: Adela Galasiu
The beauty in God’s dream
slowly blooms, petal by petal,
watched quietly by the whole being
in a breath of silent bliss.
Frumusetea din visul lui Dumnezeu
Infloreste incet, petala cu petala,
privita tacut de o intreaga faptura
intr-o rasuflare de beatitudine fara zgomot.
22 words / 22 de cuvinte , Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015
Photo: Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015
The soul levitates above the ground
longing dreamy to
move its roots into heaven.
The matter’s consistency
stridently burdens the light
reflected by the heart.
Some say we cannot stop the moment
yet I still believe that we can
trap it within the soul’s walls.
Sufletul leviteaza deasupra pamantului
tanjind visator sa
isi mute radacinile in cer.
ingreuneaza in mod strident lumina
reflectata de inima.
Unii spun ca nu avem posibilitatea sa oprim clipa
si totusi eu inca mai cred ca o putem
tine prinsa intre peretii sufletului.
45 words / 45 de cuvinte, memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August, 2015
Photos: Adela Galasiu, Wild Strawberries/ Fragi
In a far away land there is a city with hundreds of wise houses. Each house has a roof, a soul and an attic with two windows. Eyes scrutinize the birds that get back to their nests late at night, the grannies that bake homemade bread, the blatant children playing outside, the flowers raising their heads in the sun, the cats that purr in hidden corners, the dogs hiding their precious bones, the women that dream of the return of their husbands and the husbands dreaming of other women.
Every day opens a new color, a new hope, ends a life and begins others. Every evening sends to sleep all the rippled memories of the day, all the children and cats and birds and wives and husbands. Some of the grannies will sleep longer, other babies will get born out of the dreams of past nights. Some of the flowers will grow seeds, others will bloom, the stars will seem to rotate on the sky awaiting the rays of the same sun that has opened the eyes of all the children and women and cats and husbands and grannies and birds.
When morning comes the smell of coffee invades the streets. It fills up the sky and the staircases of all houses. As eyes open life vibrates, noises clash in the air, birds sing again, cats lick meticulously their paws and wash their furs with slow movements on the edge of wide open windows, dogs inspect every corner of their territory, children moan instead of waking up, wives pack lunch for their husbands, husbands go to work hoping that the day will be better that the other days. And even though life seems the same, it is always different.
In the city where houses have eyes life can still flow in unexpected patterns. Houses have eyes in Sibiu, Romania.
Intr-o tara indepartata exista un oras cu sute de case intelepte. Fiecare casa are un acoperis, un suflet si un pod cu doua ferestre. Ochi privesc cu mare atentie pasarile care se intorc la cuiburile lor noaptea, bunicile care coc paine de casa, copiii galagiosi care se joaca pe afara, florile care isi ridica frumosul cap in soare, pisicile care torc in colturi ascunse, cainii care isi ascund mult iubitele oase, femeile care viseaza cu ochii deschisi la intoarcerea barbatilor lor si barbatii care viseaza la cu totul alte femei.
Fiecare zi deschide o noua culoare, o noua speranta, sfarseste o noua viata si incepe altele. Fiecare seara trimite la culcare toate amintirile ondulate ale zilei, toti copiii si toate pisicile si toate pasarile si toate nevestele si toti barbatii. Unele bunici vor dormi mai mult, alti copii se vor naste din visele noptilor care au trecut. Unele flori vor face seminte, altele vor inflori, stelele vor parea ca se rotesc pe cer asteptand razele aceluiasi soare care a deschis ochii tuturor copiiilor si femeilor si pisicilor si barbatilor si bunicilor si pasarilor.
Cand vine dimineata aroma de cafea napadeste toate strazile. Umple cerul si casele scarilor. In timp ce ochii se deschid, viata vibreaza, zgomote se ciocnesc in aer, pasari canta din nou, pisici isi ling meticulos labele si isi spala blana cu miscari foarte tacticoase pe marginea ferestrelor larg deschise, caini inspecteaza fiecare colt al teritoriului lor, copii gem in loc sa se trezeasca, neveste impacheteaza pranzul pentru barbatii lor, barbati merg la lucru sperand ca ziua va fi mai buna decat alte zile. Si desi viata pare la fel, este mai totdeauna diferita.
In orasul in care casele au ochi viata poate inca sa se scurga in tipare cu totul neasteptate.
Casele au ochi in Sibiu, Romania.
300 words / 300 de cuvinte,
Story and Translation / Poveste si Traducere : memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu October 2013 / July 2015
A tribute to Dinu Lipatti, “Greatest pianist after Frédéric Chopin”( as Yehudi Menuhin said).
Tribut lui Dinu Lipatti, “cel mai mare pianist după Frédéric Chopin” (dupa cum a spus Yehudi Menuhin).
“Lipatti- Sonata for the good man” is a sensible portrait of the composer, pianist and teacher Dinu Constantin Lipatti. The documentary brings to light , from the still rich TVR(Romanian Television) Archive, anthological interviews with Florica Musicescu, Nadia Boulanger, the two biographers of Lipatti, Grigore Bărgăuanu and Dragoş Tănăsescu, and Menuhin.
You are watching a documentary signed by Ruxandra Ţuchel.
„Lipatti- Sonată pentru omul bun” creionează un portret emoţionat al celui care a fost compozitorul pianistul şi pedagogul Dinu Constantin Lipatti. Documentarul aduce la lumină, din Arhiva încă bogată a TVR, interviuri antologice cu Florica Musicescu, cu Nadia Boulanger, cu cei doi biografi ai lui Lipatti, Grigore Bărgăuanu şi Dragoş Tănăsescu, cu Menuhin. Urmăriţi un documentar semnat Ruxandra Ţuchel
memyselfandela, © Adela Galasiu, 2015
Video source: Youtube.
Women who read are dangerous.
memyselfandela, May 2015
Mesiku na nebi hlubokem
Svetlo tve daleko vidi,
Po svete bloudis sirokem,
Divas se v pribytky lidi.
Mesicku, postuj chvili
reckni mi, kde je muj mily
Rekni mu, stribmy mesicku,
me ze jej objima rame,
aby si alespon chvilicku
vzpomenul ve sneni na mne.
Zasvet mu do daleka,
rekni mu, rekni m kdo tu nan ceka!
O mneli duse lidska sni,
at’se tou vzpominkou vzbudi!
Mesicku, nezhasni, nezhasni!
Moon, high and deep in the sky
Your light sees far,
You travel around the wide world,
and see into people’s homes.
Moon, stand still a while
and tell me where is my dear.
Tell him, silvery moon,
that I am embracing him.
For at least momentarily
let him recall of dreaming of me.
Illuminate him far away,
and tell him, tell him who is waiting for him!
If his human soul is in fact dreaming of me,
may the memory awaken him!
Moonlight, don’t disappear, disappear!
De cand ma simt tot mai bogat de tine/ Since I feel more and more rich of you
Si-mi stau pe tample soarele si luna/ And on my temples lie the Sun and the Moon
Acum mi-e cel mai rau si cel mai bine./ Now I feel the worst and the best”
magnolias, impeccably graceful
blooming a smile over your sad soul,
lovingly laying a kiss
in the palm of your hand
magnolias, telling you stories
that no fortune-teller could even imagine,
of feelings nobody would ever
believe may exist
magnolias gently blooming
like the young season that brought you into my life
with this warm memory of my restless heart
looking over you sat on a quiet bench on the boulevard
magnolias dancing quiet
loosing their white petals in a vertigo
in an infinite dream where we are no longer broken
but the two halves composing the same incredibly surreal folly.
magnolii, impecabil de grațioase
înflorind un zâmbet peste sufletul tau trist,
asternand cu dragoste un sarut
în palma ta
magnolii, spunandu-ti povești
pe care nici macar o ghicitoare nu le-ar putea imagina,
de sentimente de care nimeni vreodată
n-ar crede ca ar putea exista
magnolii înflorind ușor
ca tânărul anotimp care te-a adus în viața mea
cu această amintire caldă a inimii mele agitate
veghiind peste tine așezat pe o bancă tacuta pe bulevard
magnolii dansand liniștit
pierzandu-si petalele albe într-un vertij,
într-un vis infinit unde nu mai suntem rupti
ci suntem cele două jumătăți compunand aceeasi incredibila nebunie ireala.
100 de cuvinte/ 100 words, memyselfandela, April 2014
Photos: Adela Galasiu 2014
After 2 months of waiting here is the episode where I had the honour of sharing my story too. My contribution is dedicated to my beloved father, Ioan Galasiu and to Gershwin’s beloved Rhapsody in Blue. Many thanks BBC Radio 4. Adela Galasiu, 2014
“The earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The earth was spinning with its music carrying us on board;
it didn’t stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that’s miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium’s score.”
Eugenio Montejo, The Trees
I live waiting on the platform for my destined train. Sometimes I overslept in the waiting room and missed it, but most of the times I was here on the platform when it arrived. I have travelled for a while, I have learned new things but when I got off the train I have realized it has brought me back to this station with a name that I am still trying to decipher.
It’s just a normal train station like all others. With a huge clock, with huge windows, with many people carrying around small and big luggages and baggages stuffed with their own existence. Many run after trains they almost miss, others wait a bit restless for their journey, but the most rare kind of passengers are the ones that radiate happiness when they see their train arriving. Not many smile as they step in their train.
Above my head, on a wall, is scribbled Paler’s Decalogue, for some a blasphemy, for some food for thought:
“1.Wait, no matter how long.
2. Wait, no matter for what.
3. Don’t remember quite anything instead. The only good memories are the ones that allow you to live in the present.
4. Do not count the days.
5. Do not forget that any waiting time is temporary, even if it lasts for a lifetime.
6. Repeat yourself that there is no such thing as a desert. There is only our incapacity to fill the void in which we are living.
7. Do not put in the same pot both the prayer and God. Prayer is sometimes a form of hope of the one that does not dare to hope on his own.
8. If this thought helps, do not seek to admit that you hope because you don’t have something better to do or even in order to prevent the outcomes of doing nothing.
9. Bless the opportunity of completely belonging to yourself. Solitude is a whore that doesn’t blame you for being selfish.
10. Remember that Paradise was , most certainly, in a grotto.”
No days or nights are the same. They are all different and this is a blessing in itself.
Sometimes moths circle around the glowing beauty of a single light in the night, in a dance that fascinates me so much that I forget how much I still have to wait to see my train coming. Their mesmerizing dance takes me out of my world for a while.
Sometimes the dirty light reveals the faces of all the unknown people still waiting by my side, some worried, some cheerful, same frowning, some left with only few more drops of life.
Life goes on on the platform. The days grow, the nights slowly fade, the time sometimes pauses. The most beautiful light of all is the sunrise invading like molten gold the quiet platform, flowing between trains and passengers, flooding the huge waiting room in which some just enter and some still wait for an eternity to finally get born.
“When you are fishing in turbid waters and it is dripping in your soul
When all the secrets are betrayed and you feel lost
I am revolving around you, I am revolving around you,
I imagine the bad look
I will take care of your tears, i will overpass all the tortures and all the sufferings
Even when you whine and whip yourself, even when you fight, when you get ripped
When everything gets darker, i will lead you through the night
When the compass shows only heaven and hell, when your senses become blurry
When you can’t forgive yourself, nobody won’t extinguish your fire
I am revolving around you, I am revolving around you,
I imagine the bad look
I will take care of your tears, i will overpass all the tortures and all the sufferings
Even when you whine and whip yourself, even when you fight, when you…
View original post 126 more words
me arranca la vida.
En cada paso me clavo una espina,
cada momento enciende mi herida.
Soul of mine,
rips life from me.
On every step another thorn,
every moment lights up my wound.]
We can live forever,
we’ll fight on together.
Hold on. Hold on.
We can live forever
if we never surrender.
Hold on. Hold on…
no es lo que parecía.
Dimos sangre y sudor ciegamente
a la voz que nos guía y nos miente.
Soul of mine,
isn’t what it seemed.
We blindly gave blood and sweat
to the voice that guides us
and lied to us]
Will we make it through these days of gloom?
llevo en las venas
un mal que no se olvida.
Soul of mine,
I have in my veins
an evil that can’t…
View original post 2 more words
It’s dark and I really don’t care. I feel your hand holding mine and we have all we need. We don’t even talk and we have all we need. I have the taste of your lips on mine and I cannot stop smiling uncontrolled. It’s long after midnight. The moon smiles with a white powdered face glowing at us. On the way home your arm holds my shoulders and I put my arm around you. Tipsy and happy we return home. Home is a place in Heaven. We are.
memyselfandela, July 2013
” Three matches one by one struck in the night
The first to see your face in its entirety
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your mouth
And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
As I hold you in my arms.”
Let’s dance, you told me, let’s dance…
White music embraces us, white birds float over us,
It snows with snow of dreams, snow of silence, snow of angel tears…
Let us dance love, I say, let us dance…
Hai să dansăm, mi-ai spus, hai să dansăm…
Muzică albă ne îmbrățișează, păsări albe plutesc peste noi,
Ninge cu zăpăda de vise, zăpadă de tăcere, ninsoare de lacrimi de înger…
Hai să dansăm iubire, îți zic, hai să dansăm…
memyselfandela, June 2013
“You are so beautiful when you laugh
You are so beautiful when you cry and run away from my arms
My God how you are beautiful when you smile for me”
“I was called Wykeham Thousand Eyes
In the land of shadows
And truly thousand eyes
I bring with me
So don’t you stare at me like that,
you verminous creature,
or you will miserably
lose your eyesight.“
Translation from German : memyselfandela 2013
art by Culpeo Fox
” In the nights, when I again remember us,
in the dark always and always threatened,
embraced always under the guillotine,
forever obsessed with time and night,
haunted by shadows in which we recognize ourselves,
always as in the first night of the world
and always talking about the end of love,
remembering always the seas and the sun
and always on this black sand of the night
without knowing if tomorrow we’ll be together,
always waiting for the blade of the guillotine to fall,
always the separations,
the love always threatened by others
and by ourselves,
always under this black sun
that enlightens us, when our hands touch,
always scared that our hands
will reach the end of our love
and always dreaming that we love each other without knowing
if we are the first people in the world or the last,
if the world begins with us or it ends.
Always loving in the shadow as Rembrandt’s wise people,
she who does not need wisdom, but hope
yet if we ever die, our love
will not die because of the night
but because we ourselves have threatened it too much.”
Noptile/ In the nights, by Octavian Paler
Translation from Romanian: memyselfandela, 2013
L’amore è forte come la morte
Pulsando forte nel mio cuore
La mia ragione per vivere e l’unica valida
Ragione per morire.
La luce che invade la mia anima
E il sangue nelle mie vene
Tutti parlano di te
Sei il sole nel mio universo, io ruotano nella tua ombra.
Love is as strong as death
Pulsating in my heart
My reason to live and the only valid
Reason to die.
The light filling my soul
And the blood in my veins
Everything is talking about you
You are the sun in my universe, I revolve in your shadow.
100 words, memyselfandela, 2013
“In the wave-strike over unquiet stones
the brightness bursts and bears the rose
and the ring of water contracts to a cluster
to one drop of azure brine that falls.
O magnolia radiance breaking in spume,
magnetic voyager whose death flowers
and returns, eternal, to being and nothingness:
shattered brine, dazzling leap of the ocean.
Merged, you and I, my love, seal the silence
while the sea destroys its continual forms,
collapses its turrets of wildness and whiteness,
because in the weft of those unseen garments
of headlong water, and perpetual sand,
we bear the sole, relentless tenderness.”
“Tell me, if I would catch you someday
and kiss the sole of your foot,
you would limp a little bit afterwards, isn’t it,
in fear not to crush my kiss?… “
“the thrill of long lashes
the struggle of thoughts in golden cage
fists held so tight around the cool the bars that they whiten
but it’s all right
we reside in an Alcatraz of love
surrounded by waves undergoing constant boiling
in our cell it’s warm, it’s good
we make love when we feel like it
time becomes aphrodisiac
and we feed ourselves with ourselves at fixed times
the guardians come to open the little door
scream love eachother a lot
dig long tunnels through your souls
from one towards the other
do not rush
escape is not a solution
the prison beyond waters
has all cells occupied
and they hate at fixed hours
after the compulsory walks
“înfiorarea genelor lungi
zbaterea gândurilor în colivie aurită
pumnii strânşi până la albire în jurul gratiilor reci
dar e bine
domiciliem într-un alcatraz al iubirii
înconjurat de valuri supuse fierberii permanente
în celula noastră e cald e bine
facem amor când avem chef
timpul devine afrodisiac
şi ne hrănim la ore fixe cu noi înşine
vin gardienii deschid uşiţa
strigă iubiţi-vă mult
săpaţi tuneluri lungi prin sufletele voastre
de la unul către celălalt
sunteţi condamnaţi pe viaţă la iubire
nu vă grăbiţi
evadarea nu e o soluţie
închisoarea de dincolo de ape
are toate celulele ocupate
şi se urăşte la ore fixe
după plimbările obligatorii
translation from Romanian/ traducere din romana: memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu, 2013
We kissed, we embraced, we laughed and we cried/Ne-am sărutat, ne-am strâns, am râs şi-am plâns,
by Mihai Beniuc
“We kissed, we embraced, we laughed and we cried,
We broke up, we reconciled and
We kissed passionately like barbarians,
Knowing that we will cry after we embraced.
I do not even think it has any point from now on
To make all forms and kinds of vows
For we may avoid to bump on the way
And we will look at each other simpler, more quietly.
We are like the poles of a voltaic arc
That make a bridge, of fire,when they are close;
Or maybe it’s just me, poor poet,
Telluric Anteus of the archaic myth,
I ignite myself at your bosom. – If they will bury us
In two, the tomb will be our volcano.”
Ne-am sărutat, ne-am strâns, am râs şi-am plâns,
Ne-am despărţit, ne-am împăcat iar
Cu patimă ne-am sărutat barbar,
Ştiind că-om plânge, după ce ne-am strâns.
Nici nu mai cred că are rost de-acum
Să facem fel şi chip de jurăminte,
Că ne-om feri să ne ciocnim în drum
Şi ne-om privi mai simplu, mai cuminte.
Suntem ca polii unui arc voltaic
Ce punte fac, de foc, când stau aproape;
Ori poate numai eu, poet sărman,
Teluricul Anteu din mit arhaic,
La sânul tău m-aprind. – De-or să ne-ngroape
În doi, mormântul ne va fi vulcan.”
translation from Romanian / traducere din romana: memyselfandela/Adela Galasiu, 2013