"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

Posts tagged “Love

Joy

It may sound like a cliche that one should live life as if every day was the last one, but I think we all go through life wasting time, money, wisdom and mostly lots of possibilities to learn and enjoy who we are and what we do. We often forget to be grateful for what was given to us and choose to see what we don’t have, and so life goes by in stress, bitterness, sadness or denial.

I used to deeply mourn the passing of my father and for many years I remembered the pain, loss and anxiety related to that particular moment in time. Each one of us has experienced concentrating on the wrong things I guess, it’s part of the journey.  But the other part for me was understanding that a life is not measured in its loss, but in its love and the way it has touched others. It’s not measured in tombstones but in the memories. How we touch others has nothing to do with the length of our physical existence. Nobody disappears, we are all part of the same fabric of time and universe as we know it and as we cannot even fathom it.

I used to feel so sad on this day but in recent years my heart is filled with a very serene peace. This morning the sun woke me up with a surreal shine and I have genuinely felt my father is here, with me, always. I am grateful for his life and love and he is with me in my heart, in my blood, in my soul and in the memories.

Have you lost a beloved one? No, you have not really lost them. Their life is a gift and blessing, rejoice in knowing they are with you, always!

For my dear father Ioan Galasiu with love.

300 words and photos Adela Galasiu, December 22nd 2018


Always

There are signs of life from the other side of the rainbow – your soul shining across to me.

I’m no longer sad for your departure, I have learned you have never left.

You bloom in every rose, you smile in every sunshine, we breathe the same air.

I celebrate your life and love as I celebrate all others and the entire eternity.

Always.

63 words, poem and photos/ and roses grown by -Adela Galasiu / memyselfandela June 2018

Dedicated to my father Ioan, for his birthday, 24.06.1949. Happy birthday dad, the roses bloom for you!


Love


I am a bridge / Sunt un pod , by Adrian Paunescu

I am a bridge over the river,

Towards you, always

Supported by nothing

Only on my soul.

This heartless river

Will smash me  into pieces,

I understand my condition,

But you also have to understand it.

I am a bridge over the river,

On my sad pillars,

Towards you always

But you do not exist.

You do not understand that it’s hard for me,

That I’m cold and it is ugly

That I am heavy and fixed

I am a bridge and that is all.

Where I get to go

I am forced to remain

Whether it smells like iron

Whether it smells like hay.

And at once I understand

That I am sad  in vain

On my sad pillars

I embrace myself and shiver

You feel what I feel,

More seriously, moreover,

Your permanent crying

I take from you and listen to it.

And I seem to give echo

And resonate in another way,

Stepped over by feet

Like a man, like a bridge.

I am a bridge over the river,

I am a bridge over the walking,

How many winds have written me

How many rains have deleted me.

But you’re not on the shore,

But you’re not with them

But you do not crush me,

You hold me and you drink me.

I am an elevated  bridge

Over an uncomfortable river

I am a bridge, you’re a river,

Are you a river, I am a bridge.

…………………………

Sunt un pod peste rau,

Catre tine mereu,

Pe nimic sprijinit,

Doar pe sufletul meu.

Acest rau nemilos

Ma va sparge-n bucati,

Starea mea o-nteleg,

Dar si tu seama da-ti.

Sunt un pod peste rau,

Pe pilonii mei tristi,

Catre tine mereu,

Insa tu nu existi.

Nu-ntelegi ca mi-e greu,

Ca mi-e frig si urat,

Sunt greoi si sunt fix,

Sunt un pod si atat.

Unde-apuc sa ma duc

Sunt silit sa raman

Ca miroase a fier,

Ca miroase a fan.

Si deodata-nteleg

Ca sunt trist in zadar,

Pe pilonii mei tristi

Ma cuprind si tresar.

Tu simti tot ce simt eu,

Ba mai grav, ba mai mult,

Plansul tau permanent

Il preiau si il ascult.

Si dau parca ecou

Si vibrez in alt mod,

In picioare calcat

Ca un om, ca un pod.

Sunt un pod peste riu,

Sunt un pod peste mers,

Cate vanturi m-au scris,

Cate ploi m-au tot sters.

Dar tu nu esti pe mal,

Dar tu nu esti cu ei,

Dar tu nu ma strivesti,

Tu ma tii si ma bei.

Sunt un pod ridicat

Peste-un rau incomod,

Sunt un pod, esti un rau,

Esti un rau, sunt un pod.

Adrian Paunescu, Romanian Poet

Translation: Adela Galasiu, 2010


Dinu Lipatti – Sonata for the good man / Sonata pentru omul bun

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.


Paris

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

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


Barefoot Soul / Suflet Descult

My barefoot soul walks on your old stone paved streets

Resting quiet in front of Holy Wisdom…

Wanders like a sleepwalker among lemon trees and lavender
Smiling at the olives and grapes that will become your oil and wine…

My liquid soul melts in the hot air
And becomes the good wind that spins all your windmills…

My fragile sunburnt soul
Throws itself into the sea with the crying seagulls
And gets born again from the foam and the ashes of all dormant volcanos…

My silent soul laughs at the sight of your eyes, you must be sure of that…

And when it gets tired it returns like a child
To sleep, wrapped and clean, inside the most hidden drawer
Waiting for you to open it again.

—————————————————————————————

Sufletul meu descult paseste pe vechile tale strazi pietruite

Odihnindu-se tacut in fata Sfintei Intelepciuni…

Rataceste ca un somnambul printre lamai si lavanda
Zambind maslinelor si strugurilor ce vor deveni uleiul si vinul tau…

Sufletul meu lichid se topeste in aerul fierbinte
Si devine vantul bun care invarte toate morile tale de vant…

Sufletul meu fragil parjolit de soare
Se arunca in mare cu pescarusii tipand
Si se naste din nou din spuma si cenusa tuturor vulcanilor adormiti…

Sufletul meu mut rade la vederea ochilor tai, fii sigur de asta

Si cand oboseste se intoarce ca un copil
Sa doarma , impaturit si curat, in cel mai ascuns sertar
Asteptand ca tu sa il deschizi din nou.

Memyselfandela, 2010

Photo: photobucket


True Love

CI_7sxLWsAEtL5A

Just like any of you I have experienced life in a multitude of facets, from love to loss, from friendship to betrayal, from adversity to success, from good to evil.

As I grew up I found it hard to learn who is a friend and who is fake around me. But in time I have learned a simple thing that is extremely powerful: “you know a tree by the fruits”. The same applies to people, you know the character of a person by their actions. Once you establish this, it takes not very much time to separate good people from evil people and users from people who share generously their true love.

I have personally known many bad people and not so many really good people. And the amazing thing was that bad people have appeared and then suddenly disappeared from my life, while good people have always been there, constant and reliable, even if distant at times. Bad people are a sad memory, but good people have truly marked my life. Bad people I have certainly forgotten, yet the good people will always be in my mind and I will always love them. True good people and true friends are like stars shining in the night. Every simple little thing they do with you or for you brings you joy and guides you on the sometimes dark path of your life.

There are many so called friends out there that never support you or take your energy but never care for you. They expect you to always listen to their problems but they never bother to ask you how you are. They take advantage of all your support, they take all they can from you, but when you face bad times they fail you embarrassingly in the least expected moments. If you know such people, get them out of your life and carry on. Imagine them as fleas on your jacket, just get them off you and carry on, you will learn from the experience and it will make you stronger. The true friends would never betray you, never despise you, never laugh at you, never share your secrets, never purposely hurt you, even if you are absolutely broken, or especially then. Friend is someone who loves you as you are, with all your flaws, someone who supports you no matter what, who may criticise you but who unconditionally truly loves you.
An act of true love is to help others knowing you have no expectation of reward, benefit or praise. I have met few people in my life who have done just that, and to whom I am forever grateful. They are not only very kind and generous people, but they are also humble, private and very intelligent as well. It is as if God’s goodness is spread through their hand.

There is a Christian saying : “do not let your left hand know what you left hand is doing”- meaning that if you help someone you should not brag about it, nobody but God should know about it. All I know is that there is a karma, and that one day God will repay the love and goodness with much more love and goodness in return.

What will God do with the bad and the traitors? No idea. I have seen karma at work. I have seen people having only bad luck in all their actions and not realise that they were treating other people around them very badly, causing them lots of grief.

What we give returns to us, sooner or later.

Food for thought my friends.

——————————————

600 words, memyselfandela, July 2015

Photo: Twitter


Dawn

You asked me: “Lover, tell me, how do you love me?”
“Like life itself, like the dawn rising from the darkness” I said.

You nodded: “Lover, what hope do we have?”
“None, lover, but I will still find some hope just for us” I said.

You smiled at me: “Lover, what makes your life worth living?”
“You and the love in your eyes, lover” I said.

Then you turned and disappeared in the midst of my deepest dream.
And a distant spark of hope ignited my rising dawn.

88 words, memyselfandela, November 2013

12 flight

Photo: Adela Galasiu


The Return to Innocence

Memory. One of the strongest muscles in our being. It can contract and ruin your life crushing you underneath or it can gently lift your soul in the light, no matter what life throws at you.

When I was a child my grandmother used to have in a corner of her garden a columbine that used to grow again and again every year. I remember how fascinated I used to be as a little girl by the filigree shape and the delicate yet robust structure of this flower. I could study it day after day when it bloomed or when it’s petals were falling. I used to be very caring with the flowers. And when I say flowers, I mean beings, living creatures that I respected deep in my child’s heart. It never ceased to amaze me and make me happy whenever I saw it, because only there, in that corner of the garden, hidden in shadow under a lilac tree one could have found my columbine. There were no others, it was unique and the neighbours had none. It’s incredible how simple things that adults don’t even notice can be such an awesome thing for a child.

Many years I grew up with the beautiful columbines, studying them as they opened their purple-blue flowers. Columbines meant holiday, freedom and childhood. Not in so many words, but with a warm cosy feeling deep within. Words meant nothing then, only the heart was full of feelings and of a light that an adult is losing somewhere on the way.

This year I was contemplating my bare garden, frozen and with no trace of life. Then suddenly an incredible invisible force, a singular touch of grace has awaken the life in the sleeping buds and wrinkled flowers that rose their heads and stretched their beings in the warm sunshine. Then mesmerised I have discovered hundreds of columbines.

Is it God’s message that life is beautiful and full of diversity on a multitude of layers at the same time? Or is it just a cosmic coincidence? No matter what it is, it has brought back to me that warm cosy feeling in the midst of a busy life full of stress. The morning when I saw the columbines bloom I felt how one must feel when they win the lottery. To others this means nothing. To me it means the return to innocence.

IMG_6032

400 words, memyselfandela,  June 1st 2015

Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2015


Love

“Unconditional Love expects no reward, knows no fear, does not demand. This Universal Language just shares Love and Peace and can be understood in the whole Universe.”

1

2

3

4

5

6

7
Photos: Adela Galasiu, April 2015, Isle of Wight


Dvorak – Rusalka – Song to the Moon



Czech Lyrics
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!

English Translation
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!


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.

falling_snow_at_night

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.

speak
63 words, memyselfandela, November 2014


Tea

She had not written for many days, weeks, months, it felt rather like eons. Struck by a fierce silence, she didn’t find the words any more. Painful silence, coming from deeper than the words can say. From deep within where thoughts do not have time or do not dare to descend in normal days that gallop worst than wild horses. Life seems to have stopped and unfolded in front of her eyes with a sort of cruelty that she did not know how to swallow. Cruelty or acute sarcasm. As if life itself would have smiled at her with half a face and smashed her badly with a slap coming from the opposite side.

Yes, life is sarcastic and unfair. Who told you that there are happy ending stories? There may be many fairy tales, but not many real happy endings. She did her best to make things happen but at some point she understood that she has no power over life itself, that life is a far bigger force than she can even understand with her mind and that all she can do is to accept with humiliation that in some ways she has lost the battles long before they have even begun.

Shredded often between her beautiful imagination and the cruel reality, she had learned that the most powerful thing one can do in this life is to survive. And the most crazy to dream. She has never dared to lay on paper all her thoughts, out of fear that if she would have done so, maybe the whole reality would have cracked over her. Yet in moments when nobody noticed her, she has dared to close her eyes and without a word to imagine a parallel world where everything was different than in this one.

There was in the end no lesson she could have cascaded on others. No great wisdom and no big prise. She had only learned that she knew nothing and as such, she stopped talking about life. She stopped complaining and equally she stopped rejoicing. She had reached a state of acceptance that was similar to the shell of a tortoise, trying to keep the very core of her far away, deeply hidden from any pain.

In an untold resilience her spirit has lost many other souls, even the ones she has loved the most. Their voice has faded just as sudden as it has made itself heard. Their presence has stopped shining a warmth of goodness and joy in her existence. Yet she was adamant she did not lose them completely and she will once again have the blessing of meeting them all. In her fantasy at least.

On the corner of a little table hidden in a tea room where nobody stopped today because of the horrible weather, she broke her silence, but allowed the secrets to remain in the deep hidden corners of her soul, brewing there, unknown to others, yet ready to emerge one day, truly full of magic.

cat-photography-tea-teacup-Favim.com-160942

500 words, memyselfandela, November 2014


Nocturne


I am a sea of love
Coming and going on my bare soul
Tides of thoughts washing
Day and night
My forever blue
Skyline.

nocturne0
25 words, memyselfandela, September 2014
Photo: Adela Galasiu, September 2014


Marooned

Motto: “We are cut, we are fallen.
We are become part of that unfeeling universe that sleeps
when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie asleep.” /

” Suntem secerati, suntem cazuti. Am devenit parte a
acelui univers lipsit de simturi care doarme cand suntem cel mai activi
si mocneste ca jarul cand ne intindem in somn.”

Virginia Woolf, The Waves/ Virginia Woolf, Valurile

IMG_6066

MAROONED

I am lost like a stone
Submerged in the depths
Of this endless reality
In which our thoughts sometimes touch.

They come and go
Sometimes tormented like an agony
Sometimes calm like a madman
Marooned on an island of thousand silences.

Don’t keep me in your pocket forever,
Throw me far away,
Just enjoy the moment of
My passing ripples through your existence.


NAUFRAGIAT

Sunt pierdut ca o piatra
Scufundata in adancurile
Acestei realitati fara sfarsit
In care gandurile noastre uneori se ating.

Ele vin si pleaca
Uneori chinuite ca o agonie
Alteori calme precum un nebun
Naufragiat pe o insula a miilor de taceri.

Nu ma tine in buzunarul tau pentru totdeauna
Arunca-ma in departare,
Bucura-te doar de momentul
Trecatoarelor mele unde prin existenta ta.

———————

memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, 63 words, 2014

Photo: Photobucket.


Image

Black & White

IMG_6083


1 + 1 = Love

33f3ee38f041ea7513bbc061eb480d2e 82e9ce5e1c8d4bb11aaccb84a5c7cb75 88b6f920afb9d20bf12b215acfde4795


Car. Love. Passion


2 3
6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 2217 18 19 20

21

123

Photos: Adela Galasiu, 2014

Dedicated to my late father, Ioan Galasiu.


Here / Aici

sea embrace

You can reach from your distant world
my caged sea of dreams
and my head resting on your sands, in a thought.

Hungry eyes gaze full of unspoken stories
lost in this wind, flying, diving, jumping
in this phase of time that belongs to us.

Memories, white and blue
embrace your bones, fill up my breath
dissolving in this finest infusion of light.

——————————————-

Poți atinge din lumea ta îndepărtată
mare mea de vise incuiate
și capul meu rezemat pe nisipurile tale, într-un gând.

Ochi înfometați privesc plini de povești nespuse,
pierduți în acest vânt, zburand, scufundându-se, sărind
în această fază a timpului care ne aparține.

Amintiri, albe și albastre,
îmbrățișeaza oasele tale, umplu respirația mea
dizolvandu-se în aceasta minunata infuzie de lumină.

63 words, memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu June 2014

Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2014


Christ Is Risen! Hristos A Inviat!

felicitare-pasteHappy Blessed Easter !!!

Easter Bunny


Nebunii Magnoliene / Magnolian Follies

 Motto: 
“Acum sunt mai pustiu ca totdeauna/ Now that I am more deserted than ever
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”

20140408-195321.jpg

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.

20140408-195350.jpg

20140408-195431.jpg

20140408-195450.jpg

20140408-195509.jpg

 

20140408-195605.jpg

20140408-195627.jpg

 

20140408-195722.jpg

20140408-195815.jpg

100 de cuvinte/ 100 words, memyselfandela, April 2014

Photos: Adela Galasiu 2014


Rhapsody in Blue – A Great Honour

BBC Radio 4
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. bbc Adela Galasiu, 2014