A mixture of art in all its forms and random grabs from life and whatever else bubbles up….

Culture

Nadia Wicker….Miercurea fara cuvinte…

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within. ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

SOURCEr

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Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here

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Mărţişor…..Pentru tine…

For

you

in the first place as always…. 🙂

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The danger of the thin line….

Sometimes you want to go or see the other side..

Explore….

To break on through to the otherside…..

Be aware…

There can be temptation…

promises…hope….

But…many times you do not see through the virtual masks..

the danger..the destruction of feelings, emotions and relationships…

It is a thin line….

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Contemplate for action….

Everything has been said before, but since nobody listens we have to keep going back and beginning all over again.

The two words ‘information’ and ‘communication’ are often used interchangeably, but they signify quite different things. Information is giving out; communication is getting through.

“They see in the political apathy of the proletariat only the apathy, not the protest against a system that has nothing to offer them.”
― Red Army Faction

Either you’re part of the problem or your part of the solution

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Miercurea fara cuvinte..What happens at night in a bookstore…

Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here >>>>here

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Wim Botha ….Book sculptures…

sursa

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my love
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the one
only you
25 moons
xxx


Miercurea fara cuvinte…Halloween is coming…..

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY STARTS HERE

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0 REMAIN, DEAR ONE… Mihai Eminescu

Full view here

0 REMAIN, DEAR ONE…

“O remain, dear one, I love you,
Stay with me in my fair land,
For your dreamings and longings
Only I can understand.

You, who like a prince reclining
O’er the pool with heaven starred;
You who gaze up from the water
With such earnest deep regard.

Stay, for where the lapping wavelets
Shake the tall and tasseled grass,
I will make you hear in secret
How the furtive chamois pass.

Oh, I see you wrapped in magic,
Hear your murmur low and sweet,
As you break the shallow water
With your slender naked feet;

See you thus amidst the ripples
Which the moon’s pale beams engage,
And your years seem but an instant,
And each instant seems an age.”

Thus spake the woods in soft entreaty;
Arching boughs above me bent,
But I whistled high, and laughing
Out into the open went.

Now though e’en I roamed that country
How could I its charm recall…
Where has boyhood gone, I wonder,
With its pool and woods and all?

English version by Corneliu M. Popescu

SOURCE

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SUKHI BARBER….

SOURCE

Sukhi’s sculptures are intended to bridge the cultures of East and West. Embodying the peace and compositional balance of ancient devotional art, they represent complex philosophical ideas with a simplicity and clarity that renders them accessible to the Western viewer. Exploring themes of hidden potentials, and the transcendence of our limiting view of a solid reality, her work often represents the negative space as being as important as the material itself, implying the dance of form and spirit, a constant state of transformation.

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TRECUT-AU ANII…

TRECUT-AU ANII……….

Trecut-au anii ca nori lungi pe şesuri
Şi niciodată n-or să vie iară
Căci nu mă-ncântă azi cum mă mişcară
Poveşti şi doine, ghicitori, eresuri

Ce fruntea-mi de copil o-nseninară,
Abia-nţelese, pline de-nţelesuri –
Cu-a tale tale umbre azi în van mă-mpresuri,
O, ceas al tainei, asfinţit de sară.

Să smulg un sunet din trecutul vieţii,
Să fac, o, suflet, ca din nou să tremuri
Cu mâna mea în van pe liră lunec,

Pierdut e totu-n zarea tinereţii
Şi mută-I gura dulce-a altor vremuri,
Iar timpul creşte-n urma mea….mă-ntunec!

THE YEARS HAVE PASSED……

The years have passed like clouds o’er hills and dales
Nor will they e’er return to us, in truth,
For I’m no longer charmed as in my youth
By superstitions, riddles, fairy tales,

Which brightened up my forehead as a child –
Half understood, with hidden sense inwrought;
Vain are your shadows into which I’m caught
Oh, magic hou’r, the evening twilight mild.

To wrest a sound from my life’s yesteryear
To thrill my soul one more time with my rhyme
Upon my lyre fingers vainly spin;

All’s lost within my youth’s now distant stir
And mute is now the honeyed mouth of yonder time
Time grows upon me…darkness sucks me in.

Mihai Eminescu

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