“There is suffering in the light; in excess it burns.
Flame is hostile to the wing.
To burn and yet to fly,
that is the miracle of genius.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
Is it bright rain made of fire
that burns through slim branches of night,
or deep explosions of darkness
that dance with short seconds of light?
E oare ploaie cioplită din foc
ce arde prin ramuri de noapte,
sau explozii adânci de întuneric
ce dansează cu secunde și șoapte?
Is it a burst made of minutes
that beat in heart’s pure rhyme
or lonely prayers’ soft words
that murmur their secret and chime?
E o izbucnire de minute arzând
ce bat în ritmul inimii zborul
sau ale rugii cuvinte stinghere
ce-și murmură taina și dorul?
La mulți ani!
🙂
Happy New Year!
Nicole
Doar Nicole... 
Lovely fireworks photos and words Nicole. I loved the music early in my morning blog reads 🙂
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Thank you, Brian, new year’s fireworks are always a treat, and glad you enjoyed the music too 🙂
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La mulți ani, Nicole! Burning and flying, the night and your poem shows the fire wonderfully.
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Thank you, Francis, it was a lovely 10-minute spectacle, the fireworks display this year. I was happy I could get these nice photos beyond the bare tree branches, not perfect, but still nice 🙂
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Beautiful post, Nicole, the spark of your photos matches the spark of your poetry. Wishing you a great ’23 ahead.
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Thank you for the nice words, Dalo, and the wishes. A happy 2023 to you too!
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