Why endeavour,
When forever
Life has crumbled?
Why endeavour?
When you never
Seek for the red?
Why endeavour?
Now and ever
Haven't you dared?
Haven't you dared
To ask if life's dead?
You can't hold it
Hooks can't hold it.
Hooks are hopeless,
Even hope's rope: 20 feb 2009
Unless we believe.
luni, 29 iunie 2009
2009.02.12 We've All Tasted Appearance More Or Less
(Childhood's End)
Gouls, lies, appearances,
Hope's tunnel lights.
Life shines upon us
As long as these do shine.
As soon as you unsew
Its color and its meaning,
There might be no undoing,
Might be no coming back.
(13 feb 02:00) A withered weed is peeping
Behind the wisdom of the old:
This weed called vanity
He now avoids to_unfold.
His proverbs are not lies
He'd oft tasted, then wasted.
Liar joyful advice - be this
As long as children taste it?
As soon as they can't tell
The bright bloom from the thistles
Any more, it chokes a little;
You're embraced by the chisels
Which once had been the petals;
You grab life by its horns,
You tend to push its pedals
To pull blooms out of thorns.
As soon as you leave fancy
That once you took for granted,
The stairway to deep frenzy
Can be no more departed.
A withered weed that hissed;
In its hiding likelihood
You believed, a plague not on the list
For the feast of your childhood.
A semi-parasite in blossom,
Which flourished by the season
Of my orchard of drawn affects
I wish it had been mistletoe.
Now they are getting dressed
By barely black and white.
In a way... (03:40)
Gouls, lies, appearances,
Hope's tunnel lights.
Life shines upon us
As long as these do shine.
As soon as you unsew
Its color and its meaning,
There might be no undoing,
Might be no coming back.
(13 feb 02:00) A withered weed is peeping
Behind the wisdom of the old:
This weed called vanity
He now avoids to_unfold.
His proverbs are not lies
He'd oft tasted, then wasted.
Liar joyful advice - be this
As long as children taste it?
As soon as they can't tell
The bright bloom from the thistles
Any more, it chokes a little;
You're embraced by the chisels
Which once had been the petals;
You grab life by its horns,
You tend to push its pedals
To pull blooms out of thorns.
As soon as you leave fancy
That once you took for granted,
The stairway to deep frenzy
Can be no more departed.
A withered weed that hissed;
In its hiding likelihood
You believed, a plague not on the list
For the feast of your childhood.
A semi-parasite in blossom,
Which flourished by the season
Of my orchard of drawn affects
I wish it had been mistletoe.
Now they are getting dressed
By barely black and white.
In a way... (03:40)
2009.02.09 (c) Animae obscurae
(Ars Poetica)
Poemata nec de nobilibus solum veniunt Neither come poems only from those who're kind
Animis, neque de illis qui non sacri sunt. At heart, nor from those unsacred.
De quoque modo ne te monstres illae animae In the same way show yourself not to the soul
Qua versus non amatur, quae hunc jactat in igne. To whom verses are priceless, who throw them into fire
Quamquam pluunt aut ridunt horum animae, Even if their souls cry or laugh,
Caelestae_aut non celestae, mansae incognitae, Celestial or not celestial, left unknown
Incognitae ceterae tamen visu maneant, The others would remain unknown to sight
Poetaeque quaerunt si illae iam rideant, And poets ask if they're still laughing
Si hi possint affectus illis iam extrahere, If they can drag their feelings for them any more,
Nequis in oceano poemata ut pluviam jacere. Lest they throw the poems as some raindrops in the ocean
Utique ne te monstres cui versum jactat ignem, Anyway, show not yourself to whom throws verses to fire, (14 feb)
Quod eidem ludum artem esse vident 'Cause to them art is like playing as it seems.
Poemata nec de nobilibus solum veniunt Neither come poems only from those who're kind
Animis, neque de illis qui non sacri sunt. At heart, nor from those unsacred.
De quoque modo ne te monstres illae animae In the same way show yourself not to the soul
Qua versus non amatur, quae hunc jactat in igne. To whom verses are priceless, who throw them into fire
Quamquam pluunt aut ridunt horum animae, Even if their souls cry or laugh,
Caelestae_aut non celestae, mansae incognitae, Celestial or not celestial, left unknown
Incognitae ceterae tamen visu maneant, The others would remain unknown to sight
Poetaeque quaerunt si illae iam rideant, And poets ask if they're still laughing
Si hi possint affectus illis iam extrahere, If they can drag their feelings for them any more,
Nequis in oceano poemata ut pluviam jacere. Lest they throw the poems as some raindrops in the ocean
Utique ne te monstres cui versum jactat ignem, Anyway, show not yourself to whom throws verses to fire, (14 feb)
Quod eidem ludum artem esse vident 'Cause to them art is like playing as it seems.
2009.02.09 (b) Culori despicate
M-am întrebat, am căutat - al vieții sens sau rost;
Şi am simțit că, deși toate nu-s atât de roz,
Nici neantul, nici calea | înspre pururi negru van
Nu sunt (cel mai) de preț, și-îmbrățișez speranța vag
Că de-a sorții menire ne vom apropia ades.
N-as năzui spre-al ei supraestimat sens,
Ci îi conserv şi tind a-i îngroșa al său contur,
Căci este hâd tot ce o străjuie frumos în jur,
E nebunie, ca atunci când de rațiune o pătrunzi
Şi vrei să lupți, și știi că pierzi și te afunzi
S-o-ntini cu cifra, când sensul alb îi cercetezi,
În van când te întrebi ce va fi mâine, pierzi,
Când nu simți ce e azi, când negi s-o afli pana-n miez
Acum; când îi desfaci culoarea şi-o prefaci dedus
În ițe de-alb și negru toarse - pe al minții fus;
Pălită de cunoașteri concrete-n fire sure
Se schimb-apoi în negru, în negru va apune.
Iar când în frământare te socoți: cum? unde? când?
Întreabă-te-astfel de-al ei rost, şi nu ce-i soarta-n gând.
Real nu căuta doar în cunoașteri, materializând;
Natura-ți rade-n fata când o recroiești concretizând <--15 mar)
Abstrage vieții rațiunea, nepătruns de gând,
Tot astfel simte-i clipa și n-o gândi-ndelung.
Şi am simțit că, deși toate nu-s atât de roz,
Nici neantul, nici calea | înspre pururi negru van
Nu sunt (cel mai) de preț, și-îmbrățișez speranța vag
Că de-a sorții menire ne vom apropia ades.
N-as năzui spre-al ei supraestimat sens,
Ci îi conserv şi tind a-i îngroșa al său contur,
Căci este hâd tot ce o străjuie frumos în jur,
E nebunie, ca atunci când de rațiune o pătrunzi
Şi vrei să lupți, și știi că pierzi și te afunzi
S-o-ntini cu cifra, când sensul alb îi cercetezi,
În van când te întrebi ce va fi mâine, pierzi,
Când nu simți ce e azi, când negi s-o afli pana-n miez
Acum; când îi desfaci culoarea şi-o prefaci dedus
În ițe de-alb și negru toarse - pe al minții fus;
Pălită de cunoașteri concrete-n fire sure
Se schimb-apoi în negru, în negru va apune.
Iar când în frământare te socoți: cum? unde? când?
Întreabă-te-astfel de-al ei rost, şi nu ce-i soarta-n gând.
Real nu căuta doar în cunoașteri, materializând;
Natura-ți rade-n fata când o recroiești concretizând <--15 mar)
Abstrage vieții rațiunea, nepătruns de gând,
Tot astfel simte-i clipa și n-o gândi-ndelung.
2009.02.09 (a) The Wreckage
I'm like a wrecked house:
They come, they leave,
They sip the liquor,
They lick the honey,
They haunt all day,
They gaze,
They laugh,
They slap the door,
They laugh and dance
Like the dancing poor,
They dance then sleep,
They wake in trance,
They lock the door,
And leave the beasts
Inside they shout again
And laugh.
Still, some of them always have known
And used to plant a seed
Of hope, love, pleasure,
Yet despair is what grows
Sometimes, when they no longer
Water the garden and flowers wither.
Still, some of them always have known
And used to go
To this true garden of my soul,
There isn't one just left alone
Who heeded for the weeds.
Though one has lately assumed the throne,
I'm not going to tell
About this traveller's well
That's given water to the garden,
She's not at all a burden:
Even though at times a stone,
Lately she's made my soul a feather,
Or is it the deep breath before the plunder?
Hours have ticked
Honey she's sipped.
This very crib
Isn't but limp
Seconds have tacked,
She's in, yet glad
They come, they leave,
They sip the liquor,
They lick the honey,
They haunt all day,
They gaze,
They laugh,
They slap the door,
They laugh and dance
Like the dancing poor,
They dance then sleep,
They wake in trance,
They lock the door,
And leave the beasts
Inside they shout again
And laugh.
Still, some of them always have known
And used to plant a seed
Of hope, love, pleasure,
Yet despair is what grows
Sometimes, when they no longer
Water the garden and flowers wither.
Still, some of them always have known
And used to go
To this true garden of my soul,
There isn't one just left alone
Who heeded for the weeds.
Though one has lately assumed the throne,
I'm not going to tell
About this traveller's well
That's given water to the garden,
She's not at all a burden:
Even though at times a stone,
Lately she's made my soul a feather,
Or is it the deep breath before the plunder?
Hours have ticked
Honey she's sipped.
This very crib
Isn't but limp
Seconds have tacked,
She's in, yet glad
2009.01.15 The Kitchen Of Affection 2
The Kitchen of Affection
I won’t starve for love,
Said the boy who looked in the feelings’ kitchen.
I won’t starve from love,
Said the lad who stared in the heart’s fridge.
He never actually did
Starve of love
Luckily for him.
The lad looks now backwards
And returns to the present and future
To Carpe diem!
He is ambitious
While he grinds love’s spices
Pouring them over and over
Forever after.
I won’t starve out of love
In the kitchen of affection,
‘Cause you can see me cooking with ebony spice,
Chopping love’s seeds oh so nice
I’m a butcher for your feelings,
‘Cause you can see me gently with my axe
Slicing love’s food right through to the middle,
Words that you can sweetly sip sewed with the pin and the needle,
Words for those who can hear, like the needle,
Words not for pins.
*
You crumbled the key
Even before putting my cuffs,
They are sentimental cuffs,
I can hardly help seizing their pain,
Taking their joy,
They are now imaginary.
2:00~2:30
I won’t starve for love,
Said the boy who looked in the feelings’ kitchen.
I won’t starve from love,
Said the lad who stared in the heart’s fridge.
He never actually did
Starve of love
Luckily for him.
The lad looks now backwards
And returns to the present and future
To Carpe diem!
He is ambitious
While he grinds love’s spices
Pouring them over and over
Forever after.
I won’t starve out of love
In the kitchen of affection,
‘Cause you can see me cooking with ebony spice,
Chopping love’s seeds oh so nice
I’m a butcher for your feelings,
‘Cause you can see me gently with my axe
Slicing love’s food right through to the middle,
Words that you can sweetly sip sewed with the pin and the needle,
Words for those who can hear, like the needle,
Words not for pins.
*
You crumbled the key
Even before putting my cuffs,
They are sentimental cuffs,
I can hardly help seizing their pain,
Taking their joy,
They are now imaginary.
2:00~2:30
2008.12.29 Felina sangvina ebenina
6:00 AM
Neuron cu neuron am s-astern pe hartie,
Ii modelez in idei, pan-am sa fac o mie
Sunt bombardat de Univers, ce ma-mbie
'Ntr-o meschina betie
Cu trairi, ganduri, reverie,
Ma-nvenineaza cu oglindiri de felina
Sangvina,
Ebenina;
Eu sunt sacalul asupra-ti ce ia o gustare senina
Din carnea fina
-A universului tau de lumina,
A candorii latente in forma de inima
Cu serenitate sangvina
Ce-anima.
Intrebari cu ecou mut se perinda
Zbatute-ntr-ai mintii pereti si grinda,
Ce-si afla raspuns croit pana-n tinda,
Una-i spune alteia, captiva:
"Pe-al sortii orizont pana cand are sa se-ntinda
Trairea, gandul, reveria oglindirii de felina
Sangvina,
Ebenina,
Ce-anima
Spiritul, latent candva, la viteza maxima
Acum, propulsat de-adrenalina?"
Eu sunt un cal de cursa scurta
Animat de dorinta, de-adrenalina.
Muza ebenina-mi prinde sufletul in lesin acum si mi-l alina.
Visez avid sete de revelare uneori,
Si ma trezesc cu bibliotecile Universului inchise
Si-apoi implodeaza betia de inspiratie in zori,
Ea ma face sa vad acum nu numai forme,
Ci si esente.
Alteori acelasi spirit sangvinic, aceleasi vise
Ma-ndeamna cu portile deschise
Sa sorb din revelare cu chip de om,
Fata de vremurile cu chip de bestie
Si chiar si-acum ma mai intreb,
S-aleg: Sa fiu tot bestie? Sau om?
08:30
Neuron cu neuron am s-astern pe hartie,
Ii modelez in idei, pan-am sa fac o mie
Sunt bombardat de Univers, ce ma-mbie
'Ntr-o meschina betie
Cu trairi, ganduri, reverie,
Ma-nvenineaza cu oglindiri de felina
Sangvina,
Ebenina;
Eu sunt sacalul asupra-ti ce ia o gustare senina
Din carnea fina
-A universului tau de lumina,
A candorii latente in forma de inima
Cu serenitate sangvina
Ce-anima.
Intrebari cu ecou mut se perinda
Zbatute-ntr-ai mintii pereti si grinda,
Ce-si afla raspuns croit pana-n tinda,
Una-i spune alteia, captiva:
"Pe-al sortii orizont pana cand are sa se-ntinda
Trairea, gandul, reveria oglindirii de felina
Sangvina,
Ebenina,
Ce-anima
Spiritul, latent candva, la viteza maxima
Acum, propulsat de-adrenalina?"
Eu sunt un cal de cursa scurta
Animat de dorinta, de-adrenalina.
Muza ebenina-mi prinde sufletul in lesin acum si mi-l alina.
Visez avid sete de revelare uneori,
Si ma trezesc cu bibliotecile Universului inchise
Si-apoi implodeaza betia de inspiratie in zori,
Ea ma face sa vad acum nu numai forme,
Ci si esente.
Alteori acelasi spirit sangvinic, aceleasi vise
Ma-ndeamna cu portile deschise
Sa sorb din revelare cu chip de om,
Fata de vremurile cu chip de bestie
Si chiar si-acum ma mai intreb,
S-aleg: Sa fiu tot bestie? Sau om?
08:30
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