Arhive etichetă | burn

Draga mea Phoenix…/ My dear Phoenix


“Wise is the one who flavors the future with some salt from the past.
Becoming dust is no threat to the phoenix
born from the ash.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones


De fiecare dată azi, în ultimii trei ani, draga mea Phoenix întinde aripi flacără și regăsire. Și își ia zborul.

Și în acest an e aici. Zvârcolind a văpaie și cer. Aprinde petale și nuanțe, luminează umbre și revarsă foc. Arderea ei este cântec, iar devenirea, refren.

18 iunie mereu șoptește cum e să fii Phoenix.

Cum zbaterea ei zămislește pană ca desprinsă din trăire și retrăire, rescriindu-se a nou din cenușa propriei ei răscoliri.

Fiecare gând, rând, cuvânt… reiau ciclic aceeași poveste. Și totuși alta. Reconfigurează piesele aleatoriu și totuși previzibil, puțin la fel, puțin diferit… Labirint printre sclipiri, reveniri, uimitoare alchimie și salt.

Și-mi foșnește a treaptă mai înspre mine. Mai adăpostit, dar mai dezvăluit.

Și-mi cuibărește toată necuprinderea în zori de chihlimbar.

Doar de lună șoptiți.


Each time today, over the past three years, my dear Phoenix has been spreading its fiery wings of song.

This year it is here again. Swirling of flames and sky. Setting petals and mystery hues on fire. Her burning is a poem, and its becoming, the rhyme.

June 18th always whispers about how it is to be Phoenix.

How every flutter breathes new life into the magical quill plucked from its very own being, only to rewrite itself anew from the ash of its own burst.

Every thought, word and line… tell the same story like in a cycle. But still another. Pieces reconfigured randomly and still predictable, a bit the same, a bit different… Labyrinth among sparkles and flickers, amazing alchemy and leap.

And it rustles onto steps towards myself more. More sheltered, still more revealed.

And it nestles all the expanse into an amber dawn.

Hummed only by the moon.    




Val măturând îndoiala,
mângâind oboseala și timpul…

val de departe și cald
colorând anotimpul


Unde susurând a lumină,
a magic tărâm și aproape…

unde vălurind a spirală
în petale de șoapte


Secunde năvălind din netimp,
prin zi și culoare, prin mers…

secunde ca o dâră de cer
o cărare, un sens


Arderi de clipe atinse
de-o mână sculptând neînvins…

arderi ce vin și ce trec
în val
după val de aprins


A wave sweeping doubt away,
lulling tired eyes and long days…

a wave of farness and warmth,
on bright painted seasons
and rays


Ripples that murmur red hues,
magical realm so close…

ripples spinning long spirals
breathing deep sighs,
burning rose


Seconds dashing from space,
over the colors, the ride…

seconds like trails of bliss
cutting new pathways,
new tide


Flames of passing caressed
by a loving hand, sculpting yearn…

flames that come and then go
wave after wave
of sweet burn







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

t/here... and t/hence

Note the quote… (not to mention the walk)


“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road


My favourite part?  See minute 2:37…
Smooth, we do that every day, right? 🙂  
(to say nothing of the look in his eyes, 10 seconds later,  2:47)