Pe urmă ne vedeam din ce în ce mai des.
Eu stăteam la o margine-a orei,
tu - la cealaltă,
ca două toarte de amforă.
Numai cuvintele zburau intre noi,
înainte şi înapoi.
Vârtejul lor putea fi aproape zărit,
şi deodată,
îmi lăsam un genunchi,
iar cotul mi-infigeam în pământ,
numai ca să privesc iarba-nclinată
de caderea vreunui cuvânt,
ca pe sub laba unui leu alergând.
Cuvintele se roteau, se roteau între noi,
înainte şi înapoi,
şi cu cât te iubeam mai mult, cu atât
repetau, într-un vârtej aproape văzut,
structura materiei, de la-nceput.
Nichita Stănescu (Poveste sentimentală)
Then we met more often.
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like two handles of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their swirling,
and suddenly,
I would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow to the ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words spun between us,
back and forth,
and the more I loved you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things.
Sentimental Story
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like two handles of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their swirling,
and suddenly,
I would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow to the ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words spun between us,
back and forth,
and the more I loved you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things.
Sentimental Story
Hmm. Impossible to match that! In this corner of the universe people sometimes wipe an ink pen on their hair. Perhaps to clean it, perhaps for inspiration..
ReplyDeleteyou write Rounded letters that fall to the page, gently like blossomes, intertwined, arm in arm, like a soft chain of light. Mine are all crooKed, smudged, scribbled on coarse paper. You write words of poetry; I still search for the first letter of my soul.
I became a child for you and offered you a gift: a simple, blank page. You took it, smiled, and with a flourish jotted down your complaints. You say: "the writing is wrong, the meaning wrong, the style wrong, the spelling wrong".
What to say? I had a bad teacher! What can I add, except a full stop?
'the loops of the letters are nooses for those who gaze at the book's beauty'.
By a twist of small fate (can one say this in English?) the first two letters of the 'word verification' were r and k ! I kid thee not!
Your photography & writing is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteanonymous: a blank page?
ReplyDeleteedson: thank you for your visit and your nice words! hope to see you again...
ReplyDeleteOh. you bet I'll visit again. Looking at your pictures, I feel the urge to pick my camera again & start doing some serious photography work. I haven't done anything related to making pictures in quite a while. something like a photographers block. :-) check my Old work if you have the time http://www.edson.in/
ReplyDeletephotographer's block! I know that :-)
ReplyDeleteeven if I am not really a photographer, I just take pictures for my pleasure :-) and because I can't otherwise :-) I am addicted to it.
anyway, I am happy that you tell me this about my pictures and of course I will come look at yours, acutally I tried today but the server seemed to be down, I couldn't open the pages, only the home page worked. do you plan to show them in your blog also or you want to keep that just for stories? :-)
I want to keep my blog for my painting & short stories. atleast for now. But in the future I'll post pictures as well, but only once I do new work. Dont want to drag the past into my blog. :-) . I have no idea why my web site isn't opening. I hope you try again later.
ReplyDelete