HRH Prince Phillip The Duke of Edinburgh- A Humble Tribute and A Huge Respect
Many have posted a tribute to HRH Prince Phillip The Duke of Edinburgh and many would not think much of my words, but I must say that he was truly an extraordinary human being.
Not sure what was the most touching detail for me, but there were many. That he founded the WWF – which I never knew. That he had a vision of saving the wildlife long before anyone else became awaye of it. That he remained the same Navy man till the end, despite of being Consort to The Queen. I’m amazed at how humble he was about his huge charity work, touching mostly young people. He refused a big state funeral – which he would have deserved. He has chosen – despite all his possibilities – to have a Land-Rover for a hearse, telling us all that he remembers the WW2 times and that he was British in his heart. I had a knot in my throat when I’ve seen how he thought of sugar lumps for his ponies and the Russian Kontakion of the Departed at the end of his funeral service, to remind us all that he was born a Christian Orthodox after all and he was truly Royalty himself in his own right (not losing his identity by marrying into the British royal family).
I know many people don’t belive in monarchy, but how could you not bow in respect in front of such dedication? Have you seen many politicians care as much or try to use their resources for good causes like this? What a legacy!
The world needs more people with a great sense of duty, strength and humble kindness. God rest his soul in peace, he has used his nearly 100 years wisely!❤️
Memyselfandela, Adela Clancy-Galasiu, April 2021
(more…)Black & White Happiness
Who said that people were completely unhappy in Victorian times?
I have done a bit of research and here is the result of it. I invite you to have a look at moments in their life.
Isn’t it amazing that no matter how hard life might be the human soul finds ways to rise above it and be happy?
Photos: Photobucket
Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015
Definition of Bad Luck
“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
Image; Photobucket
Yes / Da , Octavian Paler
Yes
“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
“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
Photo: Photobucket
Black & White
Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is bliss, taste it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.”
Mother Teresa
Paris
romantic and bohemian
like a poem
mine and nobodies
of sad heart and wondering thought
brilliant and wrapped in gold cover
like the smile of a lover
city of tear and reverie
beautiful Paris
—————————————-
romantic si boem
ca un poem
al meu si al nimanui
de inima trista si gand haihui
stralucitor si poleit
ca zambetul unui iubit
oras de lacrima si vis
frumos Paris
————————————————
romantique et boheme
comme un poeme
a moi et a toute personne
de coeur triste et pensee qui etonne
brilliant et toute dore
comme la sourire d’un bien aime
ville de larme et reverie
toute belle Paris
——————————-
Poem in Romanian, English, French , memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu, July 2015
Photos: imagessource
Paris
“Je marche dans tes rues / I walk on your streets / Merg pe strazile tale
Qui me marchent sur les pieds / Which in turn step on my feet / Care imi merg pe talpi
Je bois dans tes cafés / I drink in your cafes / Beau in cafenelele tale
Je traîne dans tes métros / I hang around in your metros / Imi pierd vremea in metrourile tale
Tes trottoirs m’aiment un peu trop / Your sidewalks love me a bit too much / Trotuarele tale ma iubesc un pic prea mult
Je rêve dans tes bistrots / I dream in your bistros / Visez in bistrourile tale
Je m’assoie sur tes bancs / I sit down on your benches / Ma asez pe bancile tale
Je regarde tes monuments / I look at your monuments / Iti privesc monumentele
Je trinque à la santé de tes amants / I raise a toast to the health of your lovers / Toastez pentru sanatatea amantilor tai
Je laisse couler ta Seine / I let your Seine flow / Las Senna sa curga
Sous tes ponts, ta rengaine / Under your bridges, your tune / Sub podurile tale, melodia ta
Toujours après la peine / Always after the sorrows / Totdeauna dupa necazuri
Je pleure dans tes taxis / I cry in your taxis / Plang in taxiurile tale
Quand tu brilles sous la pluie / When you shine under the rain / Cand tu stralucesti sub ploaie
Ce que t’es belle en pleine nuit / How beautiful you are, in the middle of the night / Cat de frumos esti in plina noapte
Je pisse dans tes caniveaux / I take a piss in your gutters / Urinez in rigolele tale
C’est de la faute a Hugo / It’s all (Victor) Hugo’s fault / E vina lui (Victor) Hugo
Et je picolle en argot / And I get drunk in jargon / Si ma imbat in jargon
Je dors dans tes hôtels / I sleep in your hotels / Dorm in hotelurile tale
J’adore ta tour Eiffel / I adore your Eiffel Tower / Iti ador turnul Eiffel
Au moins elle, elle est fidèle / It, at least, is faithful / Cel putin el e credincios
Quand je te quitte un peu loin / When I leave you a little later / Cand te parasesc un pic departe
Tu ressembles au chagrin / You look just like sadness / Pari a fi doar tristete
Ça me fait un mal de chien / It hurts me so freaking much / Sufar ca un caine
Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much? / Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux / Paris, whatever you want / Paris, paris, orice vrei
Boulevard des bouleverses / Boulevard of distress / Bulevard al suferintei
Paris tu m’as renversé / Paris, you knocked me off my feet / Paris, m-ai daramat
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much?/ Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux/ Paris, whatever you want / Paris, orice vrei
Paris, Paris, tenu / Paris, Paris , once had / Paris, Paris, avut
Paris, Paris, perdu / Paris, Paris, lost / Paris , Paris, pierdut
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Sur ton pavé / On your pavement/ Pe pavajul tau
Je me réveille dans tes bras / I wake up in your arms / Ma trezesc in bratele tale
Sur tes quais y’a de la joie / On your docks, there is joy / Pe docurile tale e bucurie
Et des loups dans tes bois / And in your woods, there are wolves / Si in padurile tale lupi
Je me glisse dans tes cinés / I slip into your cinemas / Ma strecor in cinematografele tale
Je me perds dans ton quartier / I get lost in your neighbourhood / Ma pierd in cartierul tau
Je m’y retrouverai jamais / I will never manage to find my way there / Nu-mi voi gasi calea niciodata acolo
Je nage au fil de tes gares / I swim in the course of your train stations / Inot pe cursul statiilor tale de tren
Et mon regarde s’égare / And my gaze wanders / Si privirea mea rataceste
Je vois passer des cafards sur tes bars / I see cockroaches moving about on your bars / Vad trecand gandaci pe barurile tale
Je m’accroche aux réverbères / I hang on to the lampposts / Ma agat de felinare
Tes pigeons manquent pas d’air / Your pigeons have some nerve / Porumbeii tai au tupeu
Et moi de quoi j’ai l’air? / And me, what do I look like? / Si eu, eu cum arat?
Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much? / Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux / Paris, whatever you want / Paris, paris, orice vrei
Boulevard des bouleverses / Boulevard of distress / Bulevard al suferintei
Paris tu m’as renversé / Paris, you knocked me off my feet / Paris, m-ai daramat
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much?/ Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux/ Paris, whatever you want / Paris, orice vrei
Paris, Paris, tenu / Paris, Paris , once had / Paris, Paris, avut
Paris, Paris, perdu / Paris, Paris, lost / Paris , Paris, pierdut
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Sur ton pavé / On your pavement/ Pe pavajul tau
Je marche dans tes rues / I walk on your streets / Merg pe strazile tale
Qui me marchent sur les pieds / Which in turn step on my feet / Care imi merg pe talpi
Je bois dans tes cafés / I drink in your cafes / Beau in cafenelele tale
Je traîne dans tes métros / I hang around in your metros / Imi pierd vremea in metrourile tale
Tes trottoirs m’aiment un peu trop / Your sidewalks love me a bit too much / Trotuarele tale ma iubesc un pic prea mult
Je rêve dans tes bistrots / I dream in your bistros / Visez in bistrourile tale ”
Souad Massi & Marc Lavoine – Paris
Lyrics Translation : French- English – Romanian – Adela Galasiu July 2015
25
It was a cold winter afternoon when the news of losing her husband had struck her worst than the lightning. Shocking. Scary. Heartbreaking. Cruel. This news never comes easy, but there was a sense of cruelty in the easiness with which the words have been spoken by her brother in law who did not even realize that it was not his father John that had been found dead, but his brother John, who happened to have the same name but who has been living at a completely different address. It was ironic that he did not understand the obvious when he received that fatidic phone call, but when she heard about it, she was the only one who did understand. In that moment of truth, in the presence of her daughter, her whole universe has crumbled in a moment. Her child has stood still by the sound of her excruciating loud scream, a voice of despair never heard before. A scream announcing a lot of suffering.
Then came a long time of waiting for the confirmation of her loss, most probably the longest night in her life. They had gone to bring back home his dead body and she was helpless, she had to wait with her child for the moment when she would see him dead with her own eyes. Her heart was broken in two. Her mind was telling her that he was gone, yet her soul refused to accept it and hung on any glimpse of hope. She tried to phone and find out more, she tried to get help from people around, yet nobody seemed to care and all others seemed to stay out of this tragedy that was left only on her shoulders. When there’s pain, nobody seems to want to know it, all seem to turn their back and refuse to be close to it. A solitude understood only by the hurt ones.
With her family hundreds of miles away, she had spent a whole terror night hiding in a corner of the flat, finding comfort only in embracing her daughter while whispering through the tears “it cannot be him, no, he is not dead…Yes, it is him, it can only be him living at our address… no, it cannot be him…” An agony that would have gone unknown to anyone but God. Sounds of bullets fired outside the building, in the near proximity and in a distance, have tormented the whole night. A night of such an acute solitude and emptiness that she nearly lost her mind.
Making it through the madness of what is now known as the Romanian Revolution in 1989, her brothers and sisters have defied any fear and have taken all the same train, coming to bring the deserved consolation for the soul that did not have the strength to express the loss and pain anymore. Their embrace was similar to the wing of an angel covering a broken soul.
His soul was still floating among us while we were crying by his side while we were saying goodbye. In a little village church lit up by many candles, on Christmas day, in that small room full of a whole community of relatives and neighbours, he must have seen his wife kissing his forehead for the last time and his daughter being taken away while reaching her hand for the last time towards him as they were nailing the top of his coffin. He must have known he was loved and missed. He must know he is loved till the end of time.
It is all very vivid in my memory. People say time makes memories fade, yet this memory stays the same, it opens in my mind with the same brightness of a light that suddenly illuminates a very dark room. It was and still is painful. Yet it is also the loving memory of my beloved father. It is also the love for my dear precious mother, a woman who has been through so much in life. I was the witness, I was the child, and somewhere in my heart , at this time of the year, I still am. Back there, 25 years ago.
In loving memory of my father, Ioan Galasiu
700 words, memyselfandela, December 2014
Shaking
when the life breaks in the core of you
wait for the long silence to crumble.
let that heavy painful snow fall
off the bended branches of you inner tree.
grow. wait. cry. wait. breathe. wait.
set free what you love the very most
and be always truthful to yourself.
speak the truth, always.
fearlessly. simple. crazily.
even when your voice is shaking.
63 words, memyselfandela, November 2014
Black & White & Rose
Everything consists of
mostly empty space
filling the gaps between
levitating particles.
The singing bird,
the traveling train,
the darkness around,
your inquisitive eye
all are mostly not here.
Could we exist
without the invisible
particle of life
that makes
all the difference?
God’s breath of life
radiates inside us
creating the moments
that touch our hearts,
giving them substance.
In a life that could close
like a dark eyelid
over all
we defy all logic
and will always remain
absolute blossom.
81 words, memyselfandela/Adela Galasiu, June 2014
Fly
Anger? Hate? What would be the perfect word to carve into my arm? What do I allocate this tender, fleshy space between my elbow and my wrist to? Ah, no, don’t tell me. I should tattoo that I have been looking for you a lifetime and that I will never give up on the hope to finally find you. I have looked for you a lifetime? No, this is no place for lamentations… Love? Peace and Light? No, I should tattoo that I love you, that I love your feet and your heart. Your big feet. And that I live for those moments when all I want to hear is my little breath next to the amazing sound of your thumping heartbeat.
*
Memories of a madman float in the void space around, yet the heart knows no fear. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is now. I am tired to wait for an indefinite time when maybe something will happen. No, I feel and I love and I care and I suffer and I breathe and I hope and I dream. I can touch tomorrow with the tips of my fingers and embrace it as it comes, in the making. I am no longer waiting for a life, here I am, I AM the LIFE!
**
I had to sigh a million times till I could finally start to breathe… Breathe with my heart and soul, with my being, not only with my feeble lungs… LIVE , not only biologically pathetically exist… Embrace my fiery real feelings, not only humbly get crushed underneath their intensity… And what I found out in the end is that in a lifetime we may break and fall a million times,again and again, but baby, one day, after all this crush and falling, we can finally rise and fly.
***
300 words, memyselfandela 2013-2014
I Am
In the white silence
In the trembling kiss on the corner of your lips
In the smiling look in your eyes
In the sound of speaking your name
There I am,
My Love.
33 words, memyselfandela February 2014
I Love You
When I said I Love You I meant it
With heart and soul, honouring you
Being grateful for our time together.
When I said I Love You it was true
Without judgement, knowing your flaws
And adoring you for your uniqueness.
When I said I Love You I held you in my arms
But more in my soul and mind, wherever I was,
As only you were missing from me to be whole.
I Loved You and I never lied
Beyond all the pain love does not change or betray
Because I Loved You then and I’ll Love You forever.
100 words, memyselfandela, February 2014
Lunatic
The absolute solitude embraces the caryatids but has not forgotten the smile in your eyes.
I spend my days with my rebel freedom, with the stone kings and the frozen time.
Life continues to pulsate in the depths of my heartless veins.
On the same stairs where you were holding my hand
The rain has replaced the sound of your footsteps beside me.
Your wish for happiness has not yet extinguished my soul.
I write like a lunatic on the corner of every table I happen to find,
In the silent places where I have once been with you.
Lunatic. Yes, I am a lunatic. The absolute lunatic for loving you.
111 words, memyselfandela, February 2014
Photo: Photobucket
memyselfandela 