Daily Archives: decembrie 12, 2013

The Thief… – Il Ladro… – Furul…

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text

The children no longer want to grow
Because their new mother, stepmother, brought a father, as she
They hide in the corners of the house with crumpled photos clutching in their hands
no do not go outside to play, they know that the cemetery still expands
comes close to the village
have escaped twice from the orphanage, where they made too many vaccines
with stupid ideas – to grow big as well as parents …and look how big they are now…
and never want to become their turn somewhat stepmother and stepfather
tacitly and unanimously, decided to remain children
It’s snowing again, the traces of bullock cart to the cemetery are covered white
The echo of the carols it lose away, Santa Claus to bypassed the corner of their house, like a thief
and went ahead


I bambini non vogliono più crescere
Poiché la loro nuova madre…

Vezi articolul original 260 de cuvinte mai mult

The dream came back two nights in a row – Il sogno è tornato due notti di seguito – Visul s-a întors două nopți la rând

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text

The Earth try wound healing, tightens itself
and with dignity of the soldier cleans on live
gangrene and splinters
On his bark moist and warm, I looking for the roots of the wind, high waters,
from where I came
The egg of wonder, the light, the primordial bird has left him
in the wrong nest
a railing of fire leads me back, I hold tight hand
and I’m almost arrived
I dreamed, I am the healer white and I cry of powerlessness,
in a crucible of bone, I grind healing seeds for a dying Earth


La Terra cerca la guarigione delle ferite si stringe in sé
e con dignità del soldato pulisce dal vivo
cancrena e schegge
Sulla corteccia umida e calda, cerco le radici del vento, delle acque alte,
da dove sono venuto
L’Uovo della meraviglia, la luce, l’uccello primordiale l’ha lasciato
nel nido sbagliato

Vezi articolul original 117 cuvinte mai mult

radio vocativ

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Impresii din călătorie

it's a wonderful world ...

Pe Prichici

...cuvintele se întindeau ca șirurile de furnici


For in dreams , we enter a world that's entirely our own.

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V. Mior Gavrilan, un neîmblânzit

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