"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 “translation

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


Finger

An old very faithful churchman used to end the liturgy with a prayer saying:

” Lord , please put Thy finger into the chest of the unsaved and bring them back on the right track “.
After many years the man was asked again to end up the liturgy  with the same prayer.

He said:  ‘God please put … ” and stopped.

After several embarrassing moments he only ended with  “Amen.”
Asked later why he did not finish his prayer as usual, the old man said:
I had a vision. And God told me: “YOU are my finger!” “

IMG_1325Translation: memyselfandela, 2009


Over time you learn , by Jorge Luis Borges

After a while man learns to perceive the subtle difference
between sustaining a hand and chaining a soul,
learn that love does not mean you sleep with someone
and that having someone next to you is synonymous with safety,
and so, the man begins to learn …

that kisses are no contracts
and presents are no promises,
and so the man begins to accept his defeats with head up and eyes wide open,
and learns to build all roads
based on today and now
for the land of ‘tomorrow’
is too uncertain for plans …
and the future always has a lot of alternatives that stop halfway.

And after a while, man learns that if it is too long
even the life-giving warmth of the sun, burns and turns to ash.
So you begin to plant your own garden
and beautifie your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers,
and learn that you really can suffer,
that you really have power,
that really are valuable,
man learns and learns …
and learns every day.

With time you learn that to stay with someone that gives you a good future,
means that sooner or later you will want to go back to the past.

With time you understand that only one who is able to love you
your defects
without trying to change you,
can bring all the happiness you want.
You realize in time that if you’re with this person only
to accompany your loneliness,
inexorably you will get to a point when you will not want to see that person anymore.

With time you will understand that true friends are counted,
and that the one who does not fight for them
sooner or later will be seen surrounded by false
friends.

With time you learn that words said in a moment of anger,
may continue to harm the injured for the rest of his life.
With time you learn that to excuse is something anyone can do,
but to forget that, it something that only really big hearts can do.

With time you understand that if you seriously injured a friend
is very likely that his friendship will never be the same intensity.

With time you realize that although
You can be happy with your friends,
oneday you will cry for those you have let go.

In time you realize that every experience lived with each being,
will not ever happen again.

In time you realize that whoever humiliates and despises a human being
sooner or later will suffer the same humiliation and contempt, but multiplied square.

With time you learn that hurrying or forcing things to happen,
Will result in the end that they will not be as expected.

In time you realize that in reality
the best was not the future
but what you were living right at that moment.

With time you will see that although you feel happy with those you are around you,
you will miss the ones who were with you yesterday
and now are gone and no longer come back …

With time you will learn that trying to forgive or apologize,
say that you love, say that you miss,
to say that you need ,
to say that you want to be friend
before a grave
do not make any sense.

But unfortunately,
just in time you learn all.
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Photo: Photobucket


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


Thought of the day

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Women who read are dangerous.

memyselfandela, 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!


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”

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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.

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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.

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100 de cuvinte/ 100 words, memyselfandela, April 2014

Photos: Adela Galasiu 2014


The Trees, Eugenio Montejo

“The earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The earth was spinning with its music carrying us on board;
it didn’t stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that’s miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium’s score.”

theideajustliveson

Eugenio Montejo, The Trees

 

 


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


Ich dreh mich um Dich/I am revolving around you – Herbert Grönemeyer

memyselfandela

“When you are fishing in turbid waters and it is dripping in your soul
When all the secrets are betrayed and you feel lost

I am revolving around you, I am revolving around you,
I imagine the bad look
I will take care of your tears, i will overpass all the tortures and all the sufferings
Even when you whine and whip yourself, even when you fight, when you get ripped
When everything gets darker, i will  lead you through the night

When the compass shows only heaven and hell, when your senses become blurry
When you can’t forgive yourself, nobody won’t extinguish your fire

I am revolving around you, I am revolving around you,
I imagine the bad look
I will take care of your tears, i will overpass all the tortures and all the sufferings
Even when you whine and whip yourself, even when you fight, when you…

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Stream Of Passion – Darker Days

memyselfandela

“Alma mía,
la desesperanza
me arranca la vida.
En cada paso me clavo una espina,
cada momento enciende mi herida.

[English :
Soul of mine,
despair
rips life from me.
On every step another thorn,
every moment lights up my wound.]

We can live forever,
we’ll fight on together.
Hold on. Hold on.
We can live forever
if we never surrender.
Hold on. Hold on…

Alma mía,
nuestra causa
no es lo que parecía.
Dimos sangre y sudor ciegamente
a la voz que nos guía y nos miente.

[English :
Soul of mine,
our cause
isn’t what it seemed.
We blindly gave blood and sweat
to the voice that guides us
and lied to us]

Will we make it through these days of gloom?

Alma mía,
llevo en las venas
un mal que no se olvida.

[English :
Soul of mine,
I have in my veins
an evil that can’t…

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The Flower Duet

“Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin
A la rose s’assemble
Sur la rive en fleurs riant au matin
Doucement glissons de son flot charmant
Suivons le courant fuyant
Dans l’onde frémissante
D’une main nonchalante
Viens, gagnons le bord,
Où la source dort et
L’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.
Sous le dôme épais ou le blanc jasmin,
Ah! descendons
Ensemble!
Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin
A la rose s’assemble
Sur la rive en fleurs riant au matin
Viens, descendons ensemble
Doucement glissons de son flot charmant,
Suivons le courant fuyant
Dans l’onde frémissante
D’une main nonchalante
Viens, gagnons le bord
Où la source dort et
L’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.
Sous le dôme épais ou le blanc jasmin,
Ah! descendons
Ensemble!”
——————————–
“Under the dome where white jasmine
With the rose entwines
On a river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Gently floating on it’s charming risings
On the river’s current
On the shining waves
One hand reaches
Reaches for the bank
Where the spring sleeps and
The birds, the birds sing.
Under a dome of white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!
Under the dome where white jasmine
With the rose entwines
On a river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together
Gently floating on it’s charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the birds, the birds sing.
Under a dome of white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!”

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translation: memyselfandela, 2012


Clueso – Zu schnell vorbei / Over too soon

“I could hardly start,
Days stuck on me.
I come back
Now it’s the other way round.
Spread the sand in my shoes
In my room.
What can I do,
The memories always come for me,
Can’t resist.
I wanna get what feels good,
And that for ever.
Over too soon.
Tell me how fast
The time passed again?
I enjoy the moment.
Over too soon.
How quickly it happens
It’s impossible.
Over too soon!
I break away,
Here it looks the same way as yesterday.
I’ve got to ge away from here
I leave nothing behind.
I wanna experience more than
Only recalling.
I’ve seen enough
Who dreams is sleeping.
Today for it only counts for me
If something new is generated.
I wanna get what feels good,
And that for ever.
It’s madness,
‘Cos I can’t tell
How everthing runs faster
Nothing stops these lines.
Wanna have no doubt.
Draw thousands of comparisons.
When war the best time
Too much that remains forgotten.
I hardly dare closing my eyes,
Don’t wanna miss something in future
Wanna remain wakefully and enjoy
Don’t  wanna  think of tomorrow anymore
Live every moment,
Today is the day we’re gonna talk about later.”

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Translation: memyselfandela, 2012


Cookie of the day

“Never despise little things;

a candle can do any time what the sun will never be able to do:

to light in the darkness.”

Octavian Paler

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translation : memyselfandela, 2012


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