Poșeta din flori…/ The purse made of flowers

 

“I sleep with my feet on moss carpets,
my branches in the cotton of the clouds.”
― Anaïs Nin, Under a Glass Bell

 

Poșeta din flori
(versuri scrise și postate în martie 2015)

 

ar vrea să aibă o poșetă din flori…
împletită din verde și multe culori,
din tulpini moi și dure și din flori mătăsoase
să o poarte mereu, cu mișcări grațioase,
și din ea să răsară frunze fine și muguri,
să se-ntindă usor peste barete din ruguri,
cu buzunare pufoase ca din mușchi catifea-
o poșetă c-un strop de grădina în ea

și ar fi minunat de-ar avea aranjată
cu frunze și flori, o pălărie asortată
și-o eșarfă ușoară în culori pastelate,
în adiere de vânt fluturându-i la spate…

cu  poșeta din flori si culori și parfum
s-ar simți ca acasă oriunde pe drum…

 

The purse made of flowers
(originally written and posted in Romanian in March 2015)

 

she wishes she had a purse made of flowers…
simply braided of green like long days made of hours,
intertwined of thin stems with soft petals of lace
to be able to wear it with much fondness and grace,
and from it to appear lovely leaves and small sprouts,
which would grow over straps like cane-fruit in breakouts,
with small pockets so puffy, from moss like green velvet-
a dream bag like a garden, never ever to shelve it

and it would be so splendid if she found on a branch
among leafy green twigs, a straw hat just to match,
and a soft scarf like air, in serene pastel colors
fluttering in the breeze like the rainbows of summer…

with a cute purse like that, made of fragrance and flow
she would feel like at home anywhere she might go…

 

Nic❤💚le

 

Translating it also reminded me of this song,

 

Here… the English lyrics of this Romanian folk tune

 

Aer…/ Air

 

“Breathing dreams like air”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

 

Acum trei ani și un pic mi s-au așternut aceste versuri. Mi-am dorit apoi mult să le traduc. S-au înșirat atunci din adiere de august, visare și dor, iar acum… din parfum de vară/toamnă roz azuriu.

 

Three years ago these lines unfolded here softly like a breeze. After that I remember wishing to translate them.
They flowed through August hues then, dreamy and free, and now… through summer/autumn pinkish azure air.

 

 

Să mă simtă un suflet
și să simt că mă simte,
să știu că în el mă așteaptă cuminte
căldură, culoare, răbdare și dor
să pot gânduri grele
să iau în ușor

Iubirea mi-e aer
pe cărare de timp,
îmi așterne în cale auriu anotimp,
mă îmbracă în stea și lumină de toamnă
mă lună, mă soare,
mă nor și mă cheamă

 

 

To be felt by a soul
and to feel that it feels you,
to know that within it lies deeply and true
soft color and warmth, patience and light
so that heavier thoughts can be turned into flight

Love is like air
on time’s lonely lane
unfolding around its rich golden reign.
it dresses the skin in stars and silk rays
it is moon, it is sun, it is cloud
and daze

 

Spun ..bine, spun ..da,
surâd și zâmbesc
duri pași pe trotuare sunt moi, mă plutesc
petale de gând mă învârt colorat
ca din frunze, tulpină
de clopot curat

Un cântec de floare
în ritm de polen
rotindu-se fraged în sacru desen,
o netedă undă prin dorul lumesc,
spirală sublimă
pulsându-mi ceresc

 

 

I say …yes, I say …fine,
I smile and I sigh
my steps on the pavement are soft, so I fly
petals of thought shyly swirling in hues,
leaves and then flowers, bright bells full of blues

A song made of pollen,
smooth rhythm of glowing,
slow spinning circles in a delicate drawing,
elegant waves along earthly desire,
a spiral sublime with contours
of fire

 

Nicღle

 

 

 

My dear Phoenix

 

“There are times when a man has need of the open heavens
to compass his thoughts.”
― Kathryn Worth, They Loved to Laugh

 

Acum un an, Draga mea Phoenix strălucea colorat și aprins, ca din eter.
Aripile păsării de foc… mereu întinse,  zborul… impetuos dar senin.
Călătoria… o ardere vie.

***

A year ago, today, My dear Phoenix was shining colorfully and bright… as if by magic.
The fire bird… nobly ablaze, its flight… fervent but serene.
The journey… the burning life.

through golden flutter it floats
soaring tenderly towards purple skies
on wings of thought it emerges
and cold it falls into deep seated highs
it gazes candidly forwards
with feathers of sun and of fire
and yields from softly burnt souls
foamy flames anew rising higher

it arrives, it alights, coming alive – awaited for a very long time
it appears, reborn from the burn, …from deep abrupt inner chime

pouring forever into dreamy eyes
it casts long gone sparks to the world
it puts a blaze upon smoldering cries
its song, the chant of a bird
the old giving birth to a new beginning
the past embracing the now
magic arising from earth through the air
from essence of time, ..sacred bow

it rushes, it climbs, from fire it surges – awaited for a very long time
it shows, reborn from the burn, …from deep abrupt inner chime

it touches my life with its velvety wing
caressing my heart in its flight
it dresses my soul like the words of a king
and heaves into the night
it travels abysmally, horizons and suns
smoothly revived from my dream
fading away into blue morning buds
to bear my blossom serene

it reaches, ascending from silence and ashes – awaited for a very long time
it flies, reborn from the burn, …from deep abrupt inner chime

Kinship

 

(originalul acestor versuri se numește Nuntire)

“The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue,
one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper
shades of night.”
― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

 

the Sun and the Moon
looking down
o’er the world wing their crown

vaulting over star dew, serene
over wide blue never seen
across pure to azure, they dwell in deep-seated harmony
thoughts gliding from Pluto to nigh sailing Mercury

the Sun shines over the day and the Moon,
gazing down
the moon shines over the night
misty crown
the golden secret of two
over a blue me and you

for here, on Earth, you and I
bearing within us the sky
we dance away beneath whispering stars
trying to reach beyond rails and bars

wandering between Venus and Mars

 

And the original,  a year ago, today…  : )

 

…because sky is no limit.

The Blue Strawberry…

 

Exact acum un an postam jucăuș originalul Căpșunii albastre. În limba română.
Între timp se pare că aceeași jucăușă căpșună m-a așteptat, cât a putut ea de liniștită, să.. îi dau glas. Din nou. Iar eu mi-am amintit de ea. 🙂

De parcă anul ce tocmai a trecut se rotunjește,
..ca într-un cerc de mult soare și nor, de multă lună și stele,
..ca într-o buclă temporală parcă.. ieșită din timp,
trăgându-mă de mâneca sufletului, ușor șifonat și înfrigurat, și șoptindu-mi.. a venit primăvara și iubirea plutește, în aer, pe străzi, în ochi strălucește..

…ca de final de.. început albastru de.. primăvară.

spring has arrived and there’s love in the air
‘tis shining around, in her eyes, in his stare,
she told him she wished a day for them two
and he gave her instead a strawberry,

…blue

on her jacket he pinned it, caressing her hair
their souls as one soared high like a prayer
the stars and the moon rose peaceful and true
and her heart was no doubt a strawberry,

…blue

she can’t live without her strawberry …blue
it has already caught a slightly red hue
it is so full of brightness, of longing and sun
the strawberry …blue,

…two souls as one

***

You can also travel back in time and enjoy the Romanian version, playfully posted exactly one year ago today… 🙂  In the meantime, the same dear blue strawberry, full of so much heart, has been waiting for me patiently to voice her cheerful blush. Again. And I remembered.

As if this year, that seems to be rounding itself off 
..like in a circle of so much sun and cloud, deep moon and stars,
..like in a temporal loop almost out of this world,
has drawn my attention whispering mildly.. spring has arrived and there’s love in the air, ‘tis shining around, in her eyes, in his stare..

…and celebrating the end of a blue spring’s ..beginning.

Steps

 

our steps in the wild soft grass
a green necklace of strass
– as emerald velvety fern,
with lights that mildly burn

their silky footprints in the sand
a wet rusty chain of time spent
– sweet golden bowls so bright,
in foamy waters so white

her  steps on the cruel cement
a long line of maybe  and yet
– “maybe it’s working like this,
yet maybe I will go amiss?”

my dear warm steps on the ground
as beads of murmur and sound
– spread on a thread made of streams,
of life and hope, …bluish dreams

 

You can…

 

you can run high above mountains and trees

…so close to the sun that you may feel its breeze

 

you can swallow all-in the springs in your veins

… to feel their soft  murmur inside your brains

 

you can, with your forehead, the sad clouds caress

… to rain or to snow, feeling all the distress

 

you can vibrantly wear the grass and the flowers

…always carry within the colours, the bowers

 

you can deeply inhale the wind and the gales

…eternally wander the waters, the dales