duminică, 26 ianuarie 2014

The story of a stranger.

Once upon a time, in a cold morning, someone was walking on the street. A stranger. Myself.
I was looking at the ground, blinded by my own closed mind, stucked upon my own thoughts, my questionable feeligs and doubted concerns. Lost inside this foggy madness, I happenned to notice a pair of feet, not too far from where I stood.
      I raised my head. My neck was hurting, dragged by the weight of my worldly problems. But I didn't care at that time. Because when I saw him I forgot anything about myself for a couple of seconds.
A young boy. A teenager, just like me. He did not realise I was looking and I was thankful for that. Yet, I continued to bserve him quietly. He was somehow different from the rest. The way his feet were carefuly touching the ground, like he was frightened not to hurt it. The way his slender body was curling up in the air, creating a harmonious sculpture. The way his two bare hands were meeting the cold outside and greeting silently. His fingers, strong yet sensitive - hurt by a strong hit, meaning something was upseting him.
But he looked calm, loving.
He turned his head and our eyes met for the first time. Blue eyes. Deep as an ocean, and still, cold as ice. I saw sadness, despite his gentle smile when he saw me.
I bet he thought I was weird and scary. Examing him and trembling with curiosity about this stranger.
He fascinated me. I wish I could touch his hand, greet him with warmth to make sure he's real. I wish I could freeze that moment in time and stare into his unshared soul. I wanted to heal him through myself, if he was willing to accept me. To share an eternity getting to know him, the one that no one else knows, untained by words of reckless humans. Discover his depth and drown into the misteries of this stranger's oasis.
Not knowing his name, nor the sound of his voice, his native language or family. Just him. Bare spirit and beauty.
       It started snowing. Large, white flakes, melted by my breath, fell, turned into water.
I looked away. He seemed amused, not knowing my thoughts. Then, attracted by his obscure existence, I fixed my eyes into his; shy, but hungry for more.
       The ice melted, my scars opened to be bleeding wounds and he noticed. My pain. My mortal enemy and precious friend.
He made a step toward me. It was so unnatural for me to see him move. Then, he grabbed my hand; I still don't know why.

I opened my eyes. The hostital rom seemed too bright. It was late March. I took a deep breath and saw him fade away. Next to me, an old man turned his head and smiled. "Thank you", he said. He then grabbed my arm, carefuly, with a grace I knew I saw before.
"It is because I wanted to heal you too."

K.

luni, 6 ianuarie 2014

luni, 23 decembrie 2013

Doar ploaia

Mă trezesc în întuneric
şi parca în visare uit.
Totu-i împietrit,
nici măcar ceasul nu mai merge,
nici cât s-arate-o oră proastă
nici cât să umple-un gol din aer.
Şi visul iar apare,
e scris cu umbre pe pereţi,
şi în liniştea ce doare
s-aude picurând în zare,

doar ploaia


N.

sâmbătă, 16 noiembrie 2013

Otrava rosie



Aerul e fin, aerul e rar,
În camera mea moartă
Un zgomot surd s-aude:
E otrava ce-a căzut
Pe covorul roşu.


Nimic nu se aude
Şi aerul e greu.
Stau în pat, în umbră,
Otrava-i tot pe jos
Pe un covor roş.


Şi totul este roşu
Şi aer nu mai e,
Otrava-i tot pe jos

Pe covorul cel roş.


N.

sâmbătă, 12 octombrie 2013

The demon behind

   
I wish I could go
I wish I could stay
But I can not remember
My name.

From the darkest hell
You came for me,
But I can not remember
A thing about me.

I feel betrayed
And I don't know why
A demon is following
Me from behind.

The hour is late,
But I know I have time;
Time to forgive
The demon behind.

I know that I shoudn't
But I go after him.
The demon awaits
And I remember me.

I fell and he cought me,
I tryed to fight, but I couldn't,
The love that I have
Is nothing but hate,
That consummes me.

What is to know
When you know nothing?
What is to know
When you feel betryed?
What is to know
When your love is hate?

joi, 10 octombrie 2013

Lumina? Intuneric?

Lumina? Intuneric? Spune-le insemnatatea...Greu, nu-i asa? Lumina inseamna bun si pur te gandeai, iar negrul semnifica moartea. Dar te-ai gandit ca poate intre cele doua exista doar un fir subtire de ata?
Daca albul si lumina nu sunt intodeauna bune? Daca pe cei ce noi ii consideram in lumina traiesc defapt in intuneric? Daca ceva ce toti vedem rau sau urat (de partea intunecata) e mai luminat decat ceilalti.
Imaginati-va o fetita mica si "pura" care are la spate un topor ce sta fata in fata cu un un panker care arata infricosator, dar la spate tine o floare...
Cam despre asta e vorba...Lumina are coarne, iar intunericul aripi... Aparentele inseala.
Daca lumina nu e tot timpul alba,iar intunericul negru?

sâmbătă, 5 octombrie 2013

What is love?

What is love? Este un amalgam de sentimente that makes you dizzy. 
How can you resist? The ansewr is simple... nu o faci... De ce? Pentru ca este placut... E placut sa te doara? Bine inteles ca nu...dar totusi e o durere suportabila, dar nu...
It;s night... love.. love... the only thing in my mind is love. But why? Nu stiu... dar nu mai stau sa aflu. Plec. Ma imbrac si plec... dar usa este inchisa. I'm falling... into love? No! Depression? No! But? The ansewr is.. I do not know..but I like to
Rad?... De ce??... Nu stiu...Nimic nu are sens... Dragostea? Nici ea... so be happy you did not fall in love and if you are... un sfat, be careful... LOVE is not for everyone.

vineri, 6 septembrie 2013

Agonie si extaz

         Stii...acele momente cand, in ciuda vointei tale simti nevoia de durere? Poate nu nevoia, ci...pur si simplu dorinta. Ca atunci cand, desi te doare maseaua, tot strangi din dinti, stiind parca, ca la un moment dat durerea va disparea, satula de eterna-i suferinta neindestulatoare. Dorinta de a atinge limita. Senzatia in lipsa careia nu putem simti ca traim, caci fara ea, inima ar stagna intr-un salt nebunesc al rutinei si realitatii mascate.
Poate ne-am plictisi. Este oare posibil sa te plictisesti de fericire? Sau, si plictiseala este, in esenta ei o forma de durere?
Inca ma doare. Undeva inauntrul meu, ceva s-a ranit in spinii imaginatiei debordante. Sau, poate doar empatia sa fie raspunzatoare..?
         Nu am iubit niciodata, dar am trecut prin multe chinuri provocate de despartiri. Mi s-a spus odata: " Tu nu stii ce e iubirea." Cum poti fi atat de sigur? Oare inima mea nu tanjeste dupa aceeasi dulce durere? Poate ca simtamintele propriei fiinte se intind si in afara trupului. Poate am simtit si cea mai suprema agonie, insa cum ai putea sa-ti dai seama? Imi poti tu oare citi in suflet? Imi poti pansa cu mangaieri sau cu vorbe acre ranile sangerande? 
Nu, tu nu ma cunosti cu adevarat. Firea mea neinduplecata sta ascunsa sub un chip de copil.
Eu tac, imi tin buzele ferecate, dar ele ar vrea sa iti strige nenumarate fapte, dovezi si sa te combata pentru totdeauna. Dar chiar daca ar rabufni, poate s-ar bloca in prea multe ganduri si lucruri neintelese, iar daca nu, tu tot nu m-ai crede.
Stiind ca nu te pot contrazice cu logica, nici nu mai incerc sa-ti inteleg motivele afirmarilor.
         "Nu stii ce e iubirea, deci nu stii cat am suferit", imi spui. Crezi ca ai dreptate, iar eu te las. Insa eu am zburat cu aripi de inger pana in vazduh, iar de acolo m-am prabusit in abis si am zacut acolo pana ce aripile mi s-au vindecat. Apoi, am luat-o de la capat. Am pierit de-atatea ori incercand sa-mi gasesc inima furata, iar pe drum am gasit o alta, care s-a spart.
Am urmarit lumea-mi distrugandu-se si murind, ca mai apoi sa renasca mai infloritoare ca niciodata. Mi-am pierdut dragostea si mi-am sfasiat fata cu aciditatea lacrimilor ce curg precum un izvor tamaduitor.
Toate acestea s-au repetat la nesfarsit: in mintea mea, in sufletul meu, in visele mele, poate chiar si in ceea ce tu numesti realitate.
           Dar imi face placere. Macar traiesc. Prin sentimente puternice. Prin agonie si extaz. 
Si totusi...eu nu stiu ce-i "iubirea".


K.

Cuvinte in trecut

In lumina noptii
Alerg dupa trecut,
Si totul este umbra
Si totul este scrum.

Dar in vapaia
A soarelui rasare
Te vad pe tine umbra
Ce arzi in disperare.

Cu ale tale maini
Incerci, a apuca iarasi
De visul cel de astazi,
Dar totu-i in zadar.

Te vad. Te strig pe nume.
Dar focul nu te lasa.
Fara de tine umbra
Viata nu mi-e-ntreaga.