e drept, în singurătatea asta nu orice om singur ar duce-o prea mult. dar sînt o groază de nimicuri ce trebuiesc onorate: dorinţa de a fi cu orice preţ neputinţa de a mai iubi şi ziua de ieri. (Es. Pop)

Luna: Martie, 2011

Barmalai Song

PLEASE, join our dance
we have bright eyes and you will
see soon
what we see

forget about mercy
or fear
don’t think that you have had
A PAST

war and dance have no past

forget everything
there aren’t left any parents here

come with us
were’re the last PLACE where
you can play

and if you survive
you’ll tell stories
when you’ll remember
the CROCODILE.

Anunțuri

Urcuşul pe scara lui Iacob, pînă la întîlnirea cu lumina, îngerii şi poezia adevarată, nu-i este accesibil oricui

Cezar Ivanescu n-a existat „cu adevarat”. S-a nascut intr-o tara nemaiauzita si cosmicizata, intre iad si rai: BAAAD; are prieteni cu nume de mit, de legenda si de doina, ce-si petrec timpul in MUZEON; faptele sale sunt ROADE exotice, nascute pe ruinele Sinelui si salbaticite de suferinta si de incrincenarea mortii delirante. Pledez cu convingere si pe baza criteriilor de valorizare general acceptate ca este unul dintre cei mai de seama poeti din toate timpurile. Cercetatorul de azi si de maine este (va fi) in masura sa sustina cu noi argumente afirmatiile mele. Atat.

Neiubit de puterea politica, pentru ca i se opunea in forta si fara teama,pizmuit de nefirtatii de breasla,Cezar Ivanescu isi gaseste implinirea dincolo de cele lumesti, prin marea sa creatie poetica, idol fiindu-i Eminescu, in eternitatea senina si prielnica amandurora.Tocmai de aceea opera i se cuvine re-editatata si comentata, ca numele autorului Rodului si Doinelor sa ramina viu si mereu in cugetele noastre. (Petru Ursache)

Gary Snyder

How Poetry Comes to Me

It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light

night in Banaras

Fireworks somewhere in the northern part

in west, the Arabic good,

great music

It just ended and the sound

of the street below

and the thin wind

comes around.

I’m waiting for my drink.

It’s a good time, good weather

good city here

a bridge between two worlds.

Seen and unseen.

A fist of words to describe

a universe.

Many gates – they might look

large or narrow; dirty

and purifying,

close and open;

the key is made from a tree

and with pieces of strange maps

of palm leaves, bones

and many candles

floating

inside or outside

of senses

bearing thoughts and

having eyes;

so bright or so dark

can be the eyes of

such maps

we’re here

silver coming back into the ground

with all the memories and

remains of living:

we’re candled ruins

floating so far

and so close,

kites waiting good sky

FDP