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
Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here
in the first place as always…. 🙂
Sometimes you want to go or see the other side..
To break on through to the otherside…..
There can be temptation…
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….
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
Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here >>>>here
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY STARTS HERE
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
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.
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.
Exista un loc
cu cerul mereu senin
la capăt de drum.
Trebuie sa crezi asta
doar așa îl poți găsi
There is this one place
where the sky is always clear
the end of the road.
You must truly believe this
in order to find it, too
Jules Cohn Botea
De ziua ta
nu am nimic să-ţi ofer.
Mai târziu, poate,
vei afla c-am scris nişte
poeme de dragoste.
For your birthday
I have nothing to offer you.
Maybe, later on,
you will be told I wrote
a few love poems.
să strâng cu mâna căuș
stele bob cu bob –
când vii la ceas de taină
le prefir în calea ta
water in the well
with my palm I skim the pail
to catch stars one by one—
when in the night you visit
I scatter them before you
you’ve got mail
Meet new screen names
not new people
Sit in chat rooms
pretend to be someone your not
Thousands of messages
sent each day
In cyber world
your someone fake
welcome to real life
it all starts now
“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
— Charles Bukowski
Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead
— Charles Bukowski
From the depths of his soul
Hearing the words
Of hurt and of pain
Smelling the surrender
With a sweet fearing flame
Touching his skin
Out of love and hate
Seeing him slip
Away further and further
Through the fingers of death
Skin so deep
Pale, silky, and smooth
Make my hunger fade!
Me on TV with Sanziana Buruiana in the kitchen ..watch the first 7 minutes..
Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here
Siu Mai made with worms…:-)
250 ml (1 cup) mealworms
4 water chestnuts
60 ml (4 Tbsp) green onions, sliced
125 ml (1/2 cup) bamboo shoots
5 ml (1 tsp.) salt
23 ml (1 – I/2 Tbsp) soy sauce
30 ml (2 Tbsp) sherry
5 ml (1 tsp.) sugar
23 ml (1 1/2 tsp.) cornstarch
1 ml (1/4 tsp.) pepper
plus: wonton wrappers, dipping sauce (see below), vegetable oil
Place mealworms in blender, and grind until paste-like. Chop water chestnuts and add mealworm paste, green onions, bamboo shoots, egg, salt, soy sauce, sherry, sugar, cornstarch and pepper. Mix well. Fill center of won ton wrapper with 30 ml (2 tsp.) of mixture. Fold won ton in shape of a triangle. Moisten finger tips, and seal edges. Fold creased corners backward and secure the ends with more water. (They should now be shaped as a bishop’s cap.) Place in skillet containing oil heated to about 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Fry for about 5 minutes. Serve with Dipping Sauce.
15 ml (1 tsp.) boiling water
15 ml (1 tsp.) mustard
15 ml (1 tsp.) vinegar
30 ml (2 tsp.) soy sauce
Add boiling water to mustard and mix well. Add vinegar and soy sauce. Stir well.
and in croatia they serve worms too …>>>>Crispy worms in Croatia…
Full view here
Nichita Stanescu – Burned forest
Black snow was falling. The tree line
shone when I turned to see –
I had wondered long and silent,
alone, trailing memory behind me.
And it seemed the stars, fixed as they were,
ground their teeth, a stiffened nexus,
an infernal machine, tolling
the halted hours of conciousness.
Then, a thick silence descends,
and my every gesture
leaves a comet tail in the heavens.
And I hear evey glance I cast
as it echoes against
Child, what were you seeking there,
with your gangly arms and pointed shoulders
on which the wings were barely dry –
black snow drifting in the evening sky.
A horizon howling, far from view,
darting its tongues and anthracite,
dragged me forever down the mute row,
my body, half naked, sliding from sight.
In distances of smoke the town afire,
blazing beneath the planes, a frigid pyre.
We two, forest, what did we do?
Why did they burn you, forest, in a toga of ash –
and the moon no longer passes over you?
Well watched Eurovision yesterday and it was mostly crap to me this year…but when I saw the moldovian entry I did have a good laugh… I am sorry to moldovians but the entry reminded me of the beastie boys and the smurfs 🙂
Elegant traceries of the far spheres
Orbit gently throughout soft black.
A violet band opens clearly on the horizon
To look closely through eyes bright and long.
Take solace in fear, hoping power
Shapes fortunate in the far sky.
At night, plunging deeply beyond
Vivid, chromatic sanctuary, the stars
Dust brightly my eyes, my chest,
Beating heart bearing the ends
Of all things, both ecstatic and suffering.
Evening evokes the eternal solitude
Of long light at the moment of perception.
The feathers of ritual, white, perpetual,
Rippling on the brows of dancing figures,
Take torturous turnings and visual burnings –
Fire, livid, seminal, beatific to
The core of fear, tastes slowly
A finely laid, consumable perfection.
Peter Gardner 5/28/04
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.
Sewer trees.. in Bucharest ,Romania…the only country where I have found these growing……..
No… serious… The bloody gypsies here steal the cast iron lids to sell for scrapmetal…leaving the sewers open for people and animals and cars to fall into…and the council…who knows when they will put new ones…in this street there are 5 missing for many weeks now.
So people break branches and /or through garbage in there so people can see there is a hole…and of course its a good place to spit and piss in as well . you gotta love this city…..