Few of my poems, translated from Romanian:
The Eternal Exercise
You need practice,
rehearsal – for everything,
mostly in suffering,
in your hands giving birth
to the words existing in your fingertips
and to the feelings in your palms.
You need rehearsal
Somewhere between pleasure and sin
Between thought and feeling
Between fear and pride
Beyond the body
Between reason and desire
One day I found myself hanging
It’s so hard to tie up the end of the feeling to the end of the thought
To pull the thread through the middle of your heart
bound to the stone
into the ocean.
The Brightness of Silence
We kept silent
and the silence filled our souls
one with the other.
We hold our hands
Until, just being, our bodies merged.
Then, just One God has shined.
I keep looking into your eyes
I keep gathering you
How longer still will I have to mangle myself in these shards of world
to be reflected only into one,
That of the Light?
Learning the flight
Take the stone away
And you will discover the most beautiful syllable.
Take the river away
And into the dry path a divine song you will hear.
Take into your forgotten hands the broken wing
And the painting will so beautifully be shown to you.
Throw yourself into the sea
And from her murmur the dance will incarnate.
But before this,
Live yourself again.
Ask for forgiveness and fly.
I should have been everywhere and nowhere
I should have been everywhere and nowhere
around you and far from you,
inside of you walking smoothly
or crazy about the passion of being here,
outside of you,
into the jungle of the nothingness.
Butterfly was struggling into the ashtray having one burnt wing.
The other wing was flying.
Falling into feeling
So much illness gathered round the feeling!
And what a light rising from the souls’ communion
just to come down
upon the body
I confessed my soul to You, Light!
You listened to it, then took it in your palm
rising it up, so high,
in front of your great eye,
(oh, God, how great!)
that you had to put me down again
so I could see it too.
True friends are gifts from God.
Real friends, true friends. You can recognize them easily. They don’t run when you are down, they don’t laugh at you when your face is ugly broken by the bitter tears, they don’t forget your birthday, and even if they are far away from you, they find a way to be near, to let you know they care about you. Time and distance does not exist in Friendship’s Land or World!
I didn’t have time to write in here lately. Others, other things got my time, energy and attention. But today I have to write these few things, even if I should prepare myself for a difficult seminar I have to teach this weekend. But what better preparation than a warm heart filled with the joy of friendship?
I received today, some days earlier than my birthday – but the very best and right time to be received – a wonderful birthday card and a very precious gift from a friend in USA. We met in person only 3 times. We talked, chatted, wrote to each other for the past 10 years. Some times more, other times less, but somehow this connection, based on frequencies of souls, of friendship and true care for each other, continued and surfed on any wave of our separate lives. No matter where the tides have taken us, on highs or downs in each of us life’s avenues, but somehow we surely know there is a someone, out there, who really cares for us, who knows us more and deeper than others, to whom we shared parts of us. And this is a true friend.
I had many friends and good friends in my life. And I still have good friends. But true friends are little in number. A special quality of resonance might be required to find and keep a true friend in your life. That’s why they might be rare and precious, for this reason. Keeping them in our heart is bringing joy and wholeness to ourselves.
Today I wish to thank to all my true friends out there in the world! Even if this feeling and intention were started by just one of them, but I feel like thanking now to all of you.
Thank you, A. for making me feel myself and whole again, for bringing in that piece of me from you, and for offering me this opportunity to speak out loud my gratitude to you and to all my true friends! Love and gratitude to All of You!
1st of March!
A day of celebration, at least here, in Romania and some other countries around us. The story is old, too old to be remembered for real. So, if we can’t remember, what should we do? Maybe create new stories upon the old legend. This way we keep adding and adding and growing the volume of human history.
Martisor is a … you can read here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C4%83r%C5%A3i%C5%9For
Actually it is a wonderful way of going through the passage between the sleepy winter into the dreamy spring, getting yourself together in order to achieve the dreams you dreamt during winter time. Have you? Did you think about what would you like to grow, to sow, how would you like yourself to be, to look like in the next annual cycle of your life?
The natural calendar is very different, indeed, for the so many of us, inhabitants of the Earth. Many areas, different climate, different latitudes and longitudinal lines dividing cultures, marking differences among humans, various characteristics of seasons, of winds (of change), of water. Everything is important, from the tiny species of insects to the way flowers look or the taste of water. For each there is a particular calendar of nature. Connection between modern human being and its environment, the nature, has been gradually diminished until we now consider the person being able to look at the sky predicting the weather to be a paranormal human being. Paranormal is the one watching the ants making long lines, carrying provisions before the coming of a very hot and dry summer, predicting a dry summer. Our elders knew all these things. They were paying attention to their home-the natural environment that was providing food for them.
What kind of attention are we paying to the earth now, when we make big holes into its body, digging for oil, gas and so many other precious minerals in order to create more products, more stuff, advertised, inserted into men’s minds suddenly craving for who knows what new, fancy gadgets? Well, exactly this kind of attention.
The white and red strings are reminding us about purity and life, about love on all levels, from white to red Tantra, if I may say so, reminding about the famous two principles, masculine and feminine united and interconnected into one beautiful “string”. The human string.
Spring is coming indeed. So, it’s time to work. Time to sow, time to care, time to watch for what we desire, time to love the beauty, frailty, courage and perfume of snowdrops. Snowdrops are the first flowers announcing the coming of the spring, symbols for Martisor here, in Romania.
Have a beautiful spring!
I guess today is the best day for first post in my English stuff section.
Today is the National Day of Romania, an Eastern-European country where I had the privilege to be born, raised, taught … including the English language. Like many other Romanians.
Happy National Day, Romania! Happy 1st of December!
Don’t worry, I won’t get into national history. Not today.
I’ll get into my history.
My very first connection to English language was through television. Movies and cartoons, songs and BBC Theater shows were fascinating stuff for the little girl that was trying to figure out how could she get into the TV-set, into that fabulous world full of music, dance and stories. Then, I guess I was lucky having an older sister being in love with English language and literature. She was simply trying to keep my curiosity out of her life, so she was using English language when she was talking on phone with her friends. Not always, not with all of them.
Lucky me, I started school at the age of 6.5 and only one year later, I could start learning English at school. Well, my inner life started to change very rapidly after this. It became so much more interesting and attractive to use English while dreaming big, dreaming about my future, acting, impersonating various actors I was watching on TV at that time, or simply thinking about my daily life. I had a double life, the inner me speaking English more than Romanian for a while.
Gradually English became quite a world for the little girl and the moment she learned about her best friend moving out, going to leave Romania for good, moving with her family to US, her secret dream grew even more. She then started to dream about moving there, too. Not because of the communist regime, not necessarily. That was, indeed, a big issue, growing more and more, day by day into a matter of life and death. As she grew a bit more, she realized her life was damned, that she was meant to live like in a prison, not being allowed to get out of the country to visit her friend, for example. Or not being allowed to speak out what she thought, being afraid of the neighbors that could have turned her in to the Militia or Securitate for listening Voice of America’s music top. She realized she had to hide herself, her true self, and that was very, very difficult. She felt she had so much to share, to speak out, to give…
But the young girl loved her own native language very much, too. She started writing little stories, short plays for school, and Romanian language was offering her a different variety of feelings, a more profound emotion in searching for and arranging words into her phrases. More nuances, more hidden lights behind the words in her native language than the foreign, English language. And quite different sensations behind the same feeling expressed through the different words belonging to the two languages. Yet, so much easier to say more in less words if English was used!
Behind any word, no matter the language, she discovered music, a sphere of sounds that were producing feelings or emotions, a weird state of light and sound, not necessarily having a connection to the meaning of the word. She discovered the word being the master of creation. Spoken or just thought, the word was behind everything. The graphical form of the word, the letters themselves were shaping out the rhythm of their inner music, besides their associated sounds. She loved the word. And the word loved her, too. Until one day when everything turned upside down. She reached the other edge. She started hating the word. Words started proving to her they could hurt, kill, knockdown, destroy, start wars, they had the power to control everything and everyone. Every mind and every heart. And that didn’t seemed right to her.
The word “word” in Romanian is “cuvânt”. If we separate the first syllable we obtain “cu” -“vânt”, which means “with wind”. The wind is able to carry many things, is able to mix everything, even to destroy things. The wind brings seeds into the ground. With the wind, the dust is spread. With the wind, the waves of information. It is a carrier and a mover. It moves things or it’s just touching them. Well, at the end of the day, together, no matter what language we are speaking, we are all moving with the wind of change, aren’t we?