"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 “Romanian

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!


Writing Round Silences

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There’s a skylight ajar

Mirroring Heaven.

 

Brick and mortar stop embracing each other

Where no trace of tombstones remains.

 

Light pours in with the sun

And sliding on the rain dripping from God’s eye.

 

Fire tumbles down on rose petals

Floating on His Ghost on Pentecost.

 

All the holy spirits

Rejoice here in His Presence.

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55 words, Poem and photos memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu 2017/2018

Italy, Rome, The Pantheon. On Pentecost rose petals are dropped through the Pantheon Oculus as a symbol of the fire of  the Holy Ghost.


Thought of the Day

You are a beautiful intelligent being, just remember this and be yourself.

You don’t need anyone’s validation, your own validation is enough.

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Photo: Photobucket


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

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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


Water lily / Nufar

The beauty in God’s dream
slowly blooms, petal by petal,
watched quietly by the whole being
in a breath of silent bliss.

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Frumusetea din visul lui Dumnezeu
Infloreste incet, petala cu petala,
privita tacut de o intreaga faptura
intr-o rasuflare de beatitudine fara zgomot.

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22 words / 22 de cuvinte , Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Photo: Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015


Soul / Suflet

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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.

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Sufletul leviteaza deasupra pamantului
tanjind visator sa
isi mute radacinile in cer.

Consistenta materiei
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.

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45 words / 45 de cuvinte, memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August, 2015

Photos: Adela Galasiu, Wild Strawberries/ Fragi


We lose- because we win / Pierdem – caci castigam , by EMILY DICKINSON

We lose–because we win–

Gamblers–recollecting which

Toss their dice again!

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Pierdem — caci castigam–

Jucatori –amintindu-si cum

Isi arunca zarul din nou!

Translation: Adela Galasiu, 2010


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


Eyes / Ochi

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. ochi2Houses have eyes in Sibiu, Romania.

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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.

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300 words / 300 de cuvinte,

Story and Translation / Poveste si Traducere : memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu October 2013 / July 2015

Photo- Photobucket


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

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memyselfandela, © Adela Galasiu, 2015

Video source: Youtube.


Paris

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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


Luna Amara / Bitter Moon

This is a simple story that happened in the moonlight. A story streaming from my own life. A story about a small moment that will remain for life in my memory.

Maybe many of you have a favourite band. And I bet many of you have hoped or dreamed To get the unique moment to meet the vocalist they like so much , or shake hands with the guitarist they consider to be the best in the world- maybe it is not so for others, but it is so for them.

My very favourite Romanian rock band is Luna Amara, a Romanian alternative rock/grunge band. The name means “Bitter Moon” in Romanian, and has been borrowed from the Roman Polanski movie of the same name, inspired by Pascal Bruckner’s novel with the same name.The band was formed by Nick Făgădar (vocals, guitar) and Gheorghe Farcaş (bass guitar) in Cluj-Napoca, Transylvania, in September 1999, in Romania. I had the chance to listen to them first time live in Sibiu, and I have discovered them much more after I left Romania in 2011.

Luna Amara has played on stage over 200 times in the past years, throughout Romania. As a live act, this Romanian five-piece outfit has a style that combines heavy metal with alternative rock. Luna Amara is also the first Romanian band to introduce the trumpet sound into an Alternative Rock style, a struck of genius in my humble opinion.

All the artists in the band try to dedicate their lives to promote and support a modern European society in Romania. Beyond the poetry in the love songs , their lyrics have often a political message, Luna Amară being also involved in ecological projects such as “Save Vama Veche” (protecting the endangered seahorses), “Save Roşia Montană” (protecting the wildlife and natural surroundings of a mountain area from cyanide poisoning caused by companies that extract gold) and other social awareness projects.

“Luna Amară” is one of Romania’s most successful rock bands and was the top selling artist in a national chain of music stores (Hollywood Music & Film) from July until September 2004. Their songs “Folclor” (“Folklore”), “Gri Dorian” (“Dorian Grey”), “Roşu aprins” (“Scarlet”) and “Ego nr. 4” reached number one in airplay charts at local radio stations around the country.

Throughout the years they have released several albums: “Asfalt” (Asphalt), “Loc lipsă” (Missing Place), “Don’t Let Your Dreams Fall Asleep”(where mainly the acoustic side of the band is underlined), “Pietre in Alb” (Stones in White), “Live la Conti” (Live at Conti). The band performed tours all over Romania in clubs and open air locations as well as shows in the Netherlands, Germany, Bulgaria, Turkey and played live at the Sziget Festival in Budapest.


They may be neither angels, nor heroes, but they are some extremely talented people. It is more than their personal love and feelings decanted in their music, it is also their passion and talent for music. I used to detach myself from stress listening to Deftones, Metallica and Incubus, but they are nowhere near Luna Amara. At least to me, because I am Romanian and Bitter Moon sing the longing and the pain in my native language. But it is not only this. I have discovered such beautiful blue sad profound lyrics attached to their music. They contribute with amazing poetry, not only with extremely versatile sound. Their songs are colourful, they bleed and ache, they are just beautifully alive.

Two years ago when I was back in Romania for few days I have tried desperately to buy their “Stones in White” album, yet no music shop or online store had it available, it was sold out. After a long online research I managed to find a link and I was promised to get the album the next night, when I was going back to Cluj in the evening for my next morning flight back to the UK.

The evening came, I took a taxi and we drove in the evening to the address where the recording studio was. It was a very simple encounter, but it has struck me very profoundly: Nick Fagadar, the founder of Luna Amara, met me almost in the middle of the night because he cared that somebody really wanted to have their album. He handed it to me with a kind smile , he shook my hand like a friend , with no pretentious gestures, and wished me to enjoy the music. I have been truly honoured not only to get the long desired album, but mostly by getting to meet in person the legend behind it.

There was something beautiful that I cannot describe radiating through him as we left him behind. I could not help but smile. The moon was shining, yet this time not bitter, but full of hope and mysterious meanings.

800 words, Memyselfandela , 2015

Photos: Google

Video: Youtube


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.

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400 words, memyselfandela,  June 1st 2015

Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2015


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!


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


Be

Come back Love,  I have waited for you an eternity. I will wait till I’ll have no more reason to be…

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Where I sit,
my windows burst with agony
only traces left of the sunshine.
Screams of pain,
from the bleeding heart within
smoke raising
from my dying fire,
life in a crude acknowledgement
and in the oblivion of my aching mind.
but all is left is this day,
within.

What is dull for others
is a deep dive in the consciousness for me,
my long-lost confession from deserted lives,
memories filling the deep blue sea
as a storm,
scratching lines on my face
and crevasses in my soul,
harbours of quiet
where sometimes only a lost echo
still lingers.
It is through this singular beauty,
the spark inside the chaos,
that I now witness
the only path that represents
sheer living.

I am consciousness.

Hanged like a shroud
eternity awaits
the sight of a life lived
with passion,
an escape from this colourless dimension
through the fire that burns deep inside every breath.
Madness it is, yet it is life
above just a carcass, into the soul
reborn –
pure existence
erasing all negative just to give life to life itself.

When I will finally open my windows
my silence will flood the outer universes
and my ardent heart
will cast far away the song of this ephemeral moment
so that my reflected souls outside
will know that we only had this day
to be.

Thank you Andre, Vandana and Luna Amara.

222 words, Memyselfandela, January 2014


Life on a platform

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.

Waiting_for_a_train500 words, memyselfandela  January 2014

Photo: Photobucket


Reverie

Eyes on this big eyed moon
I bathe in silence
Looking at you
My dreaming love.

Lost in a silver reverie
Only this moon remembers how I missed you
How many times I lost you in past lives
Dying in torments just to be born and get back to you.

Dripping away her blues from the sky
The moon smiles
And my soul shines
For you’re always here with me.

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70 words, memyselfandela, 2013
Claude Debussy : Clair de Lune, for Piano (Suite Bergamasque No. 3), L. 75/3


The Happiness Diary – fragment, by Nicolae Steinhardt

“1968: Outside a bakery an old beggar, small, discreet. I give him 3 or 4 lei*.

He takes off his hat, respectfully, and thanks me for a long while. Why, I don’t know – the memory of my father, the physical resemblance (small and stooping) – his gesture – so polite, the shame of being saluted by an old man for a few lei, the onslaught of images of prison in my memory, revelatory of the human condition’s wretchedness – but I burst out crying in the middle of the street, like a madman.”

The Happiness Diary- fragment, by Nicolae Steinhardt

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Translation: memyselfandela, 2012

* Lei was the old comunist Romanian currency. In the present we use RON (New Romanian Lei).


Definition of a scream

Definition of a scream, Octavian Paler

“I would tell you something,
about us,
about the snow outside,
about our love.
I would tell you something,
anything,
only to stop the grass of silence grow between us.
I would tell you something,
that you knew,
or that I know,
but the grass of silence has started to grow between us
and the sounds in the late word got lost”

……………………………………………………

Definitia unui strigat, Octavian Paler

“Ti-as spune ceva,
despre noi,
despre zapada de-afara,
despre dragostea mea.
Ti-as spune ceva,
orice,
numai sa nu creasca iarba tacerii intre noi.
Ti-as spune ceva,
ce-ai stiut,
sau ce stiu,
dar a-nceput sa creasca iarba tacerii intre noi
si s-au ratacit sunetele din cuvantul tarziu.”

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Translation: memyselfandela, 2012


I have learned.We have time – Octavian Paler

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“We have time for everything.
Time to sleep, time to run to the right and to the left,
time to regret that we made mistakes and time to make mistakes again,
time to judge others and to absolve ourselves,
we have time to read and to write,
to correct what we wrote, to regret what we wrote,
we have time to make plans and time not to respect them,
We have time to make illusions for ourselves and to stir in the ashes later.
we have time for ambitions and sicknesses,
time to blame the destiny and the details,
We have time to watch the clouds, the advertising or some accident,
we have time to banish our doubts,
to delay the answers,
to break a dream and then reinvent it,
we have time to make friends, to lose friends,
we have time to receive lessons and forget afterwards,
we have time to receive gifts and not to understand them.
We have time for everything.
There is no time for just a bit of tenderness.
when we are about to do this we die.
I’ve learned some things in my life that I share with you!!
I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you
All you can do is to be a loved person.
the rest … depends on the others.
I’ve learned that as much as I care
others might not care.
I’ve learned that it takes years to earn trust
and just a few seconds to lose it
I’ve learned that it does not matter WHAT you have in your life
but WHO you have.
I’ve learned that your charm is useful for about 15 minutes to manage in life
Afterwards, you should better know something.
I’ve learned that it is not good to compare yourself with what others do better
but compare yourself with what you can do
I’ve learned that it does not matter what happens to people
but it matters what I can do to solve it
I’ve learned that no matter how you cut it
everything has two sides
I’ve learned that you should separate from your loved ones with warm words
It might be the last time you see them
I’ve learned that you can still continue for a long time after saying you cannot continue anymore
I’ve learned that heroes are those who do what they have to do,
when they have to do it
regardless the consequences
I’ve learned that there are people who love
But do not know how to show it
I’ve learned that when I am upset I have the RIGHT to be upset
But not the right to be bad
I’ve learned that real friendship continues to exist despite the distance
And this is true also for real love
I’ve learned that if someone does not love you like you want them to
It does not mean that they do not love you with all their heart.
I’ve learned that no matter how good of a friend someone is for you
that person will hurt you every now and then
and that you have to forgive him.
I’ve learned that it is not enough to be forgiven by others
Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I’ve learned that no matter how much you suffer,
The world will not stop for your pain.
I’ve learned that the past and the circumstances might have an influence on your personality
but that YOU are responsible for what you become
I’ve learned that if two people have an argument it does not mean that they do not love each other
But the fact that they do not argue does not prove that they love each other.
I’ve learned that sometimes you have to put on the first place the person, not the facts
I’ve learned that two people can look at the same thing
and can see something totally different
I’ve learned that regardless the consequences
those who are honest with themselves go further in life
I’ve learned that life can be changed in a few hours
by people who do not even know you.
I’ve learned that even when you think there is nothing more you can give
when a friend calls you, you will find the strength to help him.
I’ve learned that writing
just like talking
can ease the pains of the soul
I’ve learned that those whom you love the most
are taken away from you too soon …
I’ve learned that it is too difficult to realise
where to draw the line between being friendly, not hurting people and supporting your oppinions
I’ve learned to love
to be loved.”
———————————————————————————————————–
“Avem timp pentru toate.
Sa dormim, sa alergam in dreapta si-n stanga,
sa regretam c-am gresit si sa gresim din nou,
sa-i judecam pe altii si sa ne absolvim pe noi insine,
avem timp sa citim si sa scriem,
sa corectam ce-am scris, sa regretam ce-am scris,
avem timp sa facem proiecte si sa nu le respectam,
avem timp sa ne facem iluzii si sa rascolim prin cenusa lor mai tarziu.
Avem timp pentru ambitii si boli,
sa invinovatim destinul si amanuntele,
avem timp sa privim norii, reclamele sau un accident oarecare,
avem timp sa ne-alungam intrebarile,
sa amanam raspunsurile,
avem timp sa sfaramam un vis si sa-l reinventam,
avem timp sa ne facem prieteni, sa-i pierdem,
avem timp sa primim lectii si sa le uitam dupa-aceea,
avem timp sa primim daruri si sa nu le-ntelegem.
Avem timp pentru toate.
Nu e timp doar pentru putina tandrete.
Cand sa facem si asta murim.
Am invatat unele lucruri in viata pe care vi le impartasesc si voua!!
Am invatat ca nu poti face pe cineva sa te iubeasca
Tot ce poti face este sa fii o persoana iubita.
Restul … depinde de ceilalti.
Am invatat ca oricat mi-ar pasa mie
Altora s-ar putea sa nu le pase.
Am invatat ca dureaza ani sa castigi incredere
Si ca doar in cateva secunde poti sa o pierzi
Am invatat ca nu conteaza CE ai in viata
Ci PE CINE ai.
Am invatat ca te descurci si ti-e de folos farmecul cca 15 minute
Dupa aceea, insa, ar fi bine sa stii ceva.
Am invatat ca nu trebuie sa te compari cu ceea ce pot altii mai bine sa faca
Ci cu ceea ce poti tu sa faci
Am invatat ca nu conteaza ce li se intampla oamenilor
Ci conteaza ceea ce pot eu sa fac pentru a rezolva
Am invatat ca oricum ai taia
Orice lucru are doua fete
Am invatat ca trebuie sa te desparti de cei dragi cu cuvinte calde
S-ar putea sa fie ultima oara cand ii vezi
Am invatat ca poti continua inca mult timp
Dupa ce ai spus ca nu mai poti
Am invatat ca eroi sunt cei care fac ce trebuie,
cand trebuie
Indiferent de consecinte
Am invatat ca sunt oameni care te iubesc
Dar nu stiu s-o arate
Am invatat ca atunci cand sunt suparat am DREPTUL sa fiu suparat
Dar nu am dreptul sa fiu si rau
Am invatat ca prietenia adevarata continua sa existe chiar si la distanta
Iar asta este valabil si pentru iubirea adevarata
Am invatat ca, daca cineva nu te iubeste cum ai vrea tu
Nu inseamna ca nu te iubeste din tot sufletul.
Am invatat ca indiferent cat de bun iti este un prieten
Oricum te va rani din cand in cand
Iar tu trebuie sa-l ierti pentru asta.
Am invatat ca nu este intotdeauna de ajuns sa fi iertat de altii
Cateodata trebuie sa inveti sa te ierti pe tine insuti
Am invatat ca indiferent cat de mult suferi,
Lumea nu se va opri in loc pentru durerea ta.
Am invatat ca trecutul si circumstantele ti-ar putea influenta personalitatea
Dar ca TU esti responsabil pentru ceea ce devii
Am invatat ca, daca doi oameni se cearta, nu inseamna ca nu se iubesc
Si nici faptul ca nu se cearta nu dovedeste ca se iubesc.
Am invatat ca uneori trebuie sa pui persoana pe primul loc
Si nu faptele sale
Am invatat ca doi oameni pot privi acelasi lucru
Si pot vedea ceva total diferit
Am invatat ca indiferent de consecinte
Cei care sunt cinstiti cu ei insisi ajung mai departe in viata
Am invatat ca viata iti poate fi schimbata in cateva ore
De catre oameni care nici nu te cunosc.
Am invatat ca si atunci cand crezi ca nu mai ai nimic de dat
Cand te striga un prieten vei gasi puterea de a-l ajuta.
Am invatat ca scrisul
Ca si vorbitul
Poate linisti durerile sufletesti
Am invatat ca oamenii la care tii cel mai mult
Iti sunt luati prea repede …
Am invatat ca este prea greu sa-ti dai seama
Unde sa tragi linie intre a fi amabil, a nu rani
oamenii si a-ti sustine parerile.
Am invatat sa iubesc
Ca sa pot sa fiu iubit.”
OCTAVIAN PALER, Romanian writer
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Translation: Adela Galasiu, 2009
Photography: Adela Galasiu, July 2016, Isle of Wight, UK

I am a bridge – 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
They I am heavy and fixed
I am a bridge and that is all.
Where I get to go
I am forced to remain
Weather it smells like iron
Weather 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 crushing 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.”

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translation: memyselfandela, 2012