I cannot live with you,

I cannot live with you,

It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,

Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,

Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.

I could not die with you,

For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,--
You could not.

And I, could I stand by

And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,

Because your face
Would put out Jesus'.
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign

On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

They'd judge us--how?

For you served Heaven, you know
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you saturated sight,

And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.

And were you lost, I would be,

Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.
And were you saved,
And I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart,

You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
And prayer,
And that pale svustenance,
Despair!

by Emily Dickinson
Thank you for being my friend

Thank you for believing in me

when I found it difficult
to believe in myself...
for saying what I've needed to hear sometimes,
instead of what I've wanted to hear...
for siding with me...
and for giving me another side to consider.

Thank you for opening yourself up to me...

for trusting me with your thoughts
and disappointments and dreams...
for knowing you can depend on me
and for asking my help when you've needed it.

Thank you for putting so much

thought and care and imagination
into our friendship...
for sharing so many nice times
and making so many special memories with me.

Thank you for always being honest with me

being kind to me...being there for me.

Thank you for being

a friend to me
in so many meaningful ways.

by Larry S. Chengges
Carrefour

O you,
Who came upon me once
Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,
Why did you not strangle me before speaking
Rather than fill me with the wild white honey of your words
And then leave me to the mercy
Of the forest bees?

Amy Lowell

(1874-1925) Born in Brookline, Mass, of a distinguished New England family. She was the first to employ
"polyphonic prose" in English, mixing formal verse and free forms. The focus of the Imagist movement
shifted from Erza Pound to Amy Lowell, which caused Pound to quip that the Imagists had become the
"Amygists." She also translated from the Japanese and Chinese, bringing the predominance of images to
the English-speaking literary world.
The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never—nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Edgar Alan Poe

Ars Poetica

A poem should be palpable and mute

As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone

Of casement ledges where the moss has grown--

A poem should be wordless

As the flight of birds.

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases

Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,

Memory by memory the mind --

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs.

A poem should be equal to:

Not true.

For all the history of grief

An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea --

A poem should not mean

But be.

Archibald MacLeish
Sonnets from the Portuguese XXXXIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints - I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

By Elisabeth Barett Browning

When We Two Parted

When we two parted

In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow-
To felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well -
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met -
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears.

By George Gordon, Lord Byron 1813

In Which She Satisfies a Fear with the Rhetoric of Tears

This afternoon, my love, speaking to you

since I could see that in your face and walk
I failed in coming close to you with talk,
I wanted you to see my heart. Love, who
supported me in what I longed to do,
conquered the impossible to attain.
Amid my tears that were poured out by pain,
my heart became distilled, was broken through.
Enough, my love. Don't be so stiff. Don't let
maddening jealousies and arrogance
haunt you or let your quiet be upset
by foolish shadows: false signs of a man's
presence; for now you see my heart which met
your touch -- and so is shattered in your hands.

By George Gordon, Lord Byron

Adultery

We have all been in rooms

We cannot die in, and they are odd places, and sad.
Often Indians are standing eagle-armed on hills

In the sunrise open wide to the Great Spirit

Or gliding in canoes or cattle are browsing on the walls
Far away gazing down with the eyes of our children

Not far away or there are men driving

The last railspike, which has turned
Gold in their hands. Gigantic forepleasure lives

Among such scenes, and we are alone with it

At last. There is always some weeping
Between us and someone is always checking

A wrist watch by the bed to see how much

Longer we have left. Nothing can come
Of this nothing can come

Of us: of me with my grim techniques

Or you who have sealed your womb
With a ring of convulsive rubber:

Although we come together,

Nothing will come of us. But we would not give
It up, for death is beaten

By praying Indians by distant cows historical

Hammers by hazardous meetings that bridge
A continent. One could never die here

Never die never die

While crying. My lover, my dear one
I will see you next week

When I'm in town. I will call you

If I can. Please get hold of Please don't
Oh God, Please don't any more I can't bear . . . Listen:

We have done it again we are

Still living. Sit up and smile,
God bless you. Guilt is magical.
By James Dickey
A Screamer Discusses Methods of Screaming

We all scream, most of us inside.

Outside is another world.
A neighbor fills her television dinner
With too much pepper and screams.
One woman stabs her door with a sword.
Another, overweight, steps in the shower
And screams, 'Fat! Fat! Fat!'
A man who takes flying lessons
Soars high in the clouds to scream.
Another dives to the bottom of his pool
Where he screams underwater.
A friend cleans his gun, screaming 'Assassin!'
I like an interior, smiling scream.
When you walk past me on the street
I nod my head to you and, smiling, scream.
You never hear me through the smile.
The inside scream has no echo.

By James Schevill
To Mary

I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,

And yet thou art not there;
I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,
And press the common air.
Thy eyes are gazing upon mine
When thou art out of sight;
My lips are always touching thine
At morning, noon, and night.
I think and speak of other things
To keep my mind at rest,
But still to thee my memory clings
Like love in woman's breast.
I hide it from the world's wide eye
And think and speak contrary,
But soft the wind comes from the sky
And whispers tales of Mary.
The night-wind whispers in my ear,
The moon shines on my face;
The burden still of chilling fear
I find in every place.
The breeze is whispering in the bush,
And the leaves fall from the tree,
All sighing on, and will not hush,
Some pleasant tales of thee.

By John Clare
Endymion

A thing of beauty is a joy forever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealty and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven'brink.
Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast;
They always must be with us, or we die.
Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endimion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and eash pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And rus in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finish'd: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
And now, at once adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, through flowers and weed

By John Keats
I am not yours

I am not yours, not lost in you,

Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still

A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out

My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

By Sarah Teasdale
I Shall Not Care

When I am dead and over me bright April

Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

By Sarah Teasdale
An Hour With Thee

An hour with thee ! When earliest day

Dapples with gold the eastern grey,
Oh, what can frame my mind to bear
The toil and turmoil, cark and care,
New griefs, which coming hours unfold,
And sad remembrance of the old?
One hour with thee.

One hour with thee ! When burning June

Waves his red flag at pitch of noon;
What shall repay the faithful swain,
His labour on the sultry plain;
And, more than cave or sheltering bough,
Cool feverish blood and throbbing brow?
One hour with thee.

One hour with thee ! When sun is set,

Oh, what can teach me to forget
The thankless labours of the day;
The hopes, the wishes, flung away;
The increasing wants, and lessening gains,
The master's pride, who scorns my pains?
One hour with thee.

By Walter Scott
HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

By Wiliam Buttler Yeats

Sonnet XVIII
‘'Shall I Compare Thee to a summer’s day”

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

by William Shakespeare
 * * *

Nimeni nu ma cunoaste
Mai bine de cum ma cunosti

Ochi tai in care dormim

Amandoi
Au daruit ochilor mei de barbat
O soarta mai buna decat noptilor lumii

Ochii tai in care eu calatoresc

Au daruit serpuirii drumurilor
Un inteles desprins de pamant

In ochii tai in care desluseam

Singuratatea noastra fara margini
Azi nu mai suntem ce credeam a fi

Nimeni nu te poate cunoaste

Mai bine de cum te cunosc.
,, Les yeaux fertiles ”1936 - Paul Eluard
Nu sînt singur

Încărcată
Cu fructe uşoare pe buze
Împodobită
Cu mii de flori felurite
Glorioasă
În braţele soarelui
Bucuroasă
De-o pasăre familiară
Fermecată
De-un strop de ploaie
Mai frumoasă
Decît cerul dimineţii
Credincioasă

Vorbesc de-o grădină

Visez

Dar iubesc mai ales

Paul Eluard
Cantec de dragoste

O, cum sa-mi apar sufletul, ca nu cumva

de-al tau sa se atinga? Cum sa fac
ca de pe tine pe-alte lucruri sa-l stramut?
Ah, bucuros adaposti-l-as undeva
in locu-acela solitar, necunoscut,
ce tace, cand adancul tau da zvon.
Ci toate cate ne ating, pe rand, pe noi,
ca un vrajit arcus ne impreuna,
scotand din doua corzi acelasi ton.
Ce instrument ne-ncearca pe-amandoi?
Si ce violonist ne tine-n mana?
O, dulce cantec!
de Rainer Maria Rilke
Cantecul Margaretei

Linistea mea,
Odihna toata -
Nu le mai aflu
Ah, niciodata.

Cand el lipseste,
Lumea-i mormant.
Ma pierd de jale
Si nu mai sunt.

Sarmanul meu gand

S-a ratacit.
Sarmanul meu suflet
S-a risipit.

Linistea mea,
Odihna toata -
Nu le mai aflu
Ah, niciodata.

Dupa el ma uit
Pe geam afara.
Dupa el doar ies
Iara si iara.

Aleasa-i faptura
Si-naltu-i mers,
Ochii puternici,
Surasul nesters,

Vorba-i ce curge
Ca raul vrajit -
Si, ah, sarutarea
M-au otravit.

Linistea mea,
Odihna toata -
Nu le mai aflu
O, niciodata.

Numai spre dansul

Pieptul meu creste,
Jarul sporeste.
Inima bate,
Sa-l sting in saruturi
Ah, de-as putea.
In vapaia sa
Sa pier as vrea.

"Faust” - Wilhelm Goethe

Dansul de la sfirsit

Danseazã dragul meu

esti
frumos
aruncã-ti mingea
universul
spre mine
dans printre boltile goale
sã dansezi si sã fii
e totuna

danseazã dragul meu

s-a sfîrsit timpul
danseazã prin casa lui
goalã
si dispãrutã
tu si cu mingea ati
rãmas
dansul înseamnã
viatã si dragoste

danseazã dragul meu

inima
azvîrle-mi omenirea într-însa
si lumile
azvîrle-le chiar dacã pier
Sã dansezi înseamnã
a învia

Silija Walter
Sunt dornic sã îti spun cuvintele cele mai adânci pe care doresc sã ti le spun.
Nu îndrãznesc - mi-e teamã de râsul tãu.
Iatã de ce-mi râd de mine si fac sã izbucneascã taina mea în mii de glume.
Nesocotesc chinul meu de teamã de a nu mi-l nesocoti tu.

Sunt dornic sã îti spun cuvintele cele mai simtite - pe care doresc sã ti le spun
Nu îndraznesc - mi-e teamã cã nu le vei crede.
Iatã de ce le prefac în minciuni si-ti spun prin ele ceea ce nu gândesc.
Las sã aparã durerea mea ca ceva nechibzuit ca nu cumva s-o iei tu, drept nechibzuintã.

Sunt dornic sã-ti aleg cuvintele cele mai pretioase - pe care doresc sã ti le spun.
Nu îndrãznesc - mi-e teamã cã nu la fel îmi vei rãspunde.
Iatã de ce sunt plin de mândrie de astã putere a mea.
Te chinui de teamã cã nu vei cunoaste niciodatã chinul.

Sunt dornic sã mã asez - plin de tãcere - lângã tine.

Nu îndrãznesc - de teamã cã buzele îmi vor trãda inima.
Iatã de ce vorbesc mult si fãrã de sir ascunzând taina inimii mele în astã vorbãrie.
Chinui suferinta mea - ca nu cumva sã mi-o chinui tu.

Sunt dornic sã mã depãrtez de tine.

Nu îndrãznesc - mi-e teamã cã vei întrezãri lipsa-mi de curaj.
Si iatã de ce vin spre tine cu fruntea sus si cu un aer nepãsãtor
Privirea chinuitoare a ochilor tai îmi atâtã durerea în fiecare clipa.

Rabindranath Tagore
"Crede în iubire, chiar dacã este un izvor de suferintã.
Sã nu-ti închizi inima!"
"Nu, prietene, cuvintele tale sunt nedeslusite, nu le pot întelege."

"Inima este fãcutã numai pentru a se dãrui

cu o lacrimã sau un cântec, iubita mea."
"Nu, dragul meu, nu pot întelege, vorbele tale
sunt nedeslusite."

"Bucuria este fragilã ca o picãturã de rouã.

Ea moare surâzând.
Dar mâhnirea este puternicã si dureazã.
îngaduie ca o dragoste dureroasã sã se trezeascã
în ochii tãi."
"Nu, prietene, cuvintele tale sunt nedeslusite si nu le pot
pricepe."

"Lotusul vrea mai curând sã se desfacã în soare

si sã moarã,
decât sã trãiascã sub chip de mugure o vesnicã iarnã."
"Nu, dragul meu, cuvintele tale sunt nedeslusite
si nu le pot pricepe."

Rabindranath Tagore
They who are near to me do not know that
you are nearer to me than they are.
They who speak to me do not know that
my heart is full with your unspoken words.
They who crowd in my path do now know that I am walking alone with you.
They who love me do not know that
their love brings you to me.
Rabindranath Tagore

De teamã sã nu învat a te cunoaste cu prea multã

usurintã, tu te joci cu mine.
Tu mã uimesti cu hohotele tale de râs pentru a-ti ascunde lacrimile.
îti cunosc prefãcãtoriile.
Niciodatã nu rostesti cuvântul pe care voiai sã îl spui.

De teamã cã n-am sã te pretuiesc, tu îmi scapi

în mii de feluri.
De teamã sã nu te confund cu multimea, tu stai deoparte,
singuraticã.
îti cunosc prefãcãtoriile.

Tu-mi ceri mai mult decât altele, de aceea esti tãcutã.

Cu o nebunatica nepãsare te faci cã nu primesti darurile.
Iti cunosc prefãcãtoriile.
Niciodatã nu iei ceea ce ai voi sã primesti.

Rabindranath Tagore
El murmura: "iubirea mea, ridicã-ti ochii!"
L-am certat si i-am spus: "Pleacã!" Dar nu s-a clintit.
A ramas în fata mea si-mi tinea mâinile în ale sale.
I-am spus:
"Lasã-mã." Dar el nu a plecat.

Si-a apropiat fata de a mea

L-am privit si i-am spus: "Ce rusine!"
Dar el a rãmas neclintit.
Buzele sale mi-au atins usor obrazul.
Am tremurat toatã si i-am zis: "Tu îndrãznesti prea mult."
Dar nu i-a fost rusine.

Mi-a pus o floare în pãr.

I-am spus: "E de prisos."
Dar el nu s-a tulburat.
Mi-a luat ghirlanda de la gât si a plecat. Dar acum plâng si-mi întreb neîncetat inima:
"De ce nu se mai întoarce?"

Rabindranath Tagore
Tîrziu descoperii iubirea

Tîrziu descoperii iubirea, visul meu,

cînd seara se înazura dulce
în ochii tãi palizi
ca niste amurguri melancolice:
noaptea, în lacul lustruit de visul tãu
se reflectã tandra tristete
a anilor pierduti,
cînd între sîni ti se stingeau
tremurãtoare schije de stele si comete...
“Acum timpul s-a oprit” îmi spusesi,
când aplecat pe inima ta ascultam
suflul pierdut al noptii,
o formã divinã a luminii:
Atunci erai tu, usoarã ca o undã seninã,
cântând cîntecul ce spune ceea ce este de nespus.

Roberto Pasanisi Traducere si prezentare de Alexandru HUSAR

„ Cand inima ta
Urmeaza cu credinta
Calea binelui
Chiar si fara rugaciuni
Zeii te vor ocroti „

Kami Sugawara Michizane

Iarna

In soba focul s-a stins.

Am vorbit despre tot
ce tine de vorba.

Nimic n-a mai ramas de spus,

nici o intrebare de limpezit.

Si totusi -
cat de insetate ne-au ramas bietele inimi !

Prietene - ce capul ti-l pleci

din gulerul hainei intors in sus -

stii oare cat de subred e adevarul pe care numai

cuvintele l-adeveresc ?

Ono Tozaburo
Intreaga mea viata

Aici din nou, cu buzele incarcate de memorie, unic si

asemanator voua.
Sint acea intensitate amortita care este un suflet.
Am persistat in aproximarea fericirii si
m-am bucurat de favoarea durerii.
Am traversat marea.
Am cunoscut multe paminturi; am vazut o femeie
si doi sau trei barbati.
Am iubit o fata trufasa si alba si de o
liniste hispanica.
Am vazut o mahala infinita unde se implineste
o nemurire lacoma de apusuri.
Am savurat nenumarate cuvinte.
Cred din tot sufletul ca asta este chiar totul si ca nu
voi mai vedea
sau face lucruri noi.
Cred ca zilele si noptile mele se cumpanesc in
saracie si bogatie cu cele ale lui Dumnezeu si cu acelea
ale tuturor oamenilor.

Jorge Luis Borges

Remuscarea

Am comis cel mai grav dintre pacatele

Pe care le poate comite un om. N-am fost
Fericit. Fie ca ghetarii uitarii
Sa ma tiriie si sa ma piarda, necrutatori.
Parintii m-au zamislit pentru jocul
Riscant si frumos al vietii,
Pentru pamint, apa, aer, foc.
I-am inselat. N-am fost fericit. Implinita nu le-a fost
Speranta cea tinereasca. Mi-am daruit mintea
Indaratniciei simetrice
A artei, care tese fleacuri.
Ei mi-au lasat mostenire curajul. N-am fost curajos.
Nu ma paraseste. Sta intotdeauna linga mine
Aceasta umbra de a fi fost nefericit.

Jorge Luis Borges

Pãpusa de cârpã

Dacã pentru o clipã Dumnezeu ar uita cã sunt o papusã de cârpã si mi-ar dãrui un pic de
viatã,
S-ar putea sã nu-i spun tot ce gândesc, dar, în definitiv, as gândi tot ce spun.
As da pret lucrurilor nu pentru cât valoreazã, ci pentru ce semnificã ele.
As dormi putin, as visa mai mult,
Înteleg cã pentru fiecare minut când închidem ochii pierdem saizeci de secunde de
luminã.
As merge când ceilalti se opresc, m-as destepta când ceilalti dorm.
As asculta când ceilalti vorbesc si m-as bucura de-o bunã înghetatã de ciocolatã.
Dacã Dumnezeu m-ar cinsti cu un crâmpei de viatã,
m-as îmbraca simplu si m-as arunca pe brânci la pãmânt
Lãsând descoperit nu numai corpul, ci si sufletul.

Doamne, dacã as avea o inimã, mi-as scrie ura pe gheatã si as astepta sã rasarã soarele.
As picta un vis de van Gogh, iar pe stele as scrie un poem de Bendetti.
Un cântec al lui Serrat ar fi serenada pe care as oferi-o lunii.
As stropi cu lacrimile mele trandafirii,
pentru a simti durerea spinilor si sãrutul de sânge al petalelor lor...

Doamne, dacã as avea un crampei de viatã...

N-as lasa sã treacã un moment fãrã sã spun oamenilor cã iubesc.

As convinge pe fiecare femeie sau fiecare bãrbat cã sunt favoritii mei
si as trãi îndrãgostit de dragoste
Le-as dovedi oamenilor cât gresesc gândid cã înceteazã sã iubeascã
atunci când îmbãtrãnesc, fãrã sã stie cã îmbãtrânesc numai când înceteazã sã iubeascã.
I-as dãrui aripi unui copil, dar l-as lãsa sã învete el singur sã zboare.
Pe bãtrâni i-as învãta cã moartea nu vine cu bãtrânetea ci cu uitarea.

Atâtea lucruri am învãtat de la voi, oamenii...

Am învatat cã toatã lumea vrea sã iubeascã pe culmea muntelui,

fãrã sã stie cã adevãrata fericire stã în forma urcusului spre culme.
Am învãtat cã atunci când un copil strânge cu micul lui pumn,
pentru prima datã, degetul tatãlui lui, îl prinde pentru totdeauna.
Am învãtat cã un om are dreptul sã-l priveascã pe celãlalt de sus,
numai când l-a ajutat sã se ridice.

Sunt atâtea lucruri pe care am putut sã le învat de la voi,

dar pânã la urmã nu au sã-mi foloseascã prea mult pentru cã
atunci când mã vor aseza în acel geamantan, din nefericire,
voi fi ocupat cu muritul...

Gabril Garcia Lorca

Canción desesperada
20 poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada

Emerge tu recuerdo de la noche en que estoy.

El río anuda al mar su lamento obstinado.

Abandonado como los muelles en el alba.

Es la hora de partir, oh abandonado!

Sobre mi corazón llueven frías corolas.

Oh sentina de escombros, feroz cueva de náufragos!

En ti se acumularon las guerras y los vuelos.

De ti alzaron las alas los pájaros del canto.

Todo te lo tragaste, como la lejanía.

Como el mar, como el tiempo. Todo en ti fue naufragio !

Era la alegre hora del asalto y el beso.

La hora del estupor que ardía como un faro.

Ansiedad de piloto, furia de buzo ciego,

turbia embriaguez de amor, todo en ti fue naufragio!

En la infancia de niebla mi alma alada y herida.

Descubridor perdido, todo en ti fue naufragio!

Te ceñiste al dolor, te agarraste al deseo.

Te tumbó la tristeza, todo en ti fue naufragio!

Hice retroceder la muralla de sombra.

anduve más allá del deseo y del acto.

Oh carne, carne mía, mujer que amé y perdí,

a ti en esta hora húmeda, evoco y hago canto.

Como un vaso albergaste la infinita ternura,

y el infinito olvido te trizó como a un vaso.

Era la negra, negra soledad de las islas,

y allí, mujer de amor, me acogieron tus brazos.

Era la sed y el hambre, y tú fuiste la fruta.

Era el duelo y las ruinas, y tú fuiste el milagro.

Ah mujer, no sé cómo pudiste contenerme

en la tierra de tu alma, y en la cruz de tus brazos!
Mi deseo de ti fue el más terrible y corto,
el más revuelto y ebrio, el más tirante y ávido.

Cementerio de besos, aún hay fuego en tus tumbas,

aún los racimos arden picoteados de pájaros.

Oh la boca mordida, oh los besados miembros,

oh los hambrientos dientes, oh los cuerpos trenzados.

Oh la cópula loca de esperanza y esfuerzo

en que nos anudamos y nos desesperamos.

Y la ternura, leve como el agua y la harina.

Y la palabra apenas comenzada en los labios.

Ese fue mi destino y en él viajó mi anhelo,

y en el cayó mi anhelo, todo en ti fue naufragio!

Oh sentina de escombros, en ti todo caía,

qué dolor no exprimiste, qué olas no te ahogaron.

De tumbo en tumbo aún llameaste y cantaste

de pie como un marino en la proa de un barco.

Aún floreciste en cantos, aún rompiste en corrientes.

Oh sentina de escombros, pozo abierto y amargo.

Pálido buzo ciego, desventurado hondero,

descubridor perdido, todo en ti fue naufragio!

Es la hora de partir, la dura y fría hora

que la noche sujeta a todo horario.

El cinturón ruidoso del mar ciñe la costa.

Surgen frías estrellas, emigran negros pájaros.

Abandonado como los muelles en el alba.

Sólo la sombra trémula se retuerce en mis manos.

Ah más allá de todo. Ah más allá de todo.

Es la hora de partir. Oh abandonado.

Pablo Neruda

Farewell
" Desde el fondo de ti, y arrodillado,
un niño triste, como yo, nos mira.
Por esa vida que arderá en sus venas
tendrían que amarrarse nuestras vidas.
Por esas manos, hijas de tus manos,
tendrían que matar las manos mías.
Por sus ojos abiertos en la tierra
veré en los tuyos lágrimas un día.

Yo no lo quiero, Amada.
Para que nada nos amarre
que no nos una nada.
Ni la palabra que aromó tu boca,
ni lo que no dijeron las palabras.
Ni la fiesta de amor que no tuvimos,
ni tus sollozos junto a la ventana.

(Amo el amor de los marineros

que besan y se van.
Dejan una promesa.
No vuelven nunca más.
En cada puerto una mujer espera:
los marineros besan y se van.
Una noche se acuestan con la muerte
en el lecho del mar.

Amo el amor que se reparte

en besos, lecho y pan.
Amor que puede ser eterno
y puede ser fugaz.
Amor que quiere libertarse
para volver a amar.
Amor divinizado que se acerca
Amor divinizado que se va.)

Ya no se encantarán mis ojos en tus ojos,

ya no se endulzará junto a ti mi dolor.
Pero hacia donde vaya llevaré tu mirada
y hacia donde camines llevarás mi dolor.
Fui tuyo, fuiste mía. Qué más? Juntos hicimos
un recodo en la ruta donde el amor pasó.
Fui tuyo, fuiste mía. Tu serás del que te ame,
del que corte en tu huerto lo que he sembrado yo.
Yo me voy. Estoy triste: pero siempre estoy triste.
Vengo desde tus brazos. No sé hacia dónde voy.
...Desde tu corazón me dice adiós un niño.
Y yo le digo adiós. "

Pablo Neruda
I

Cuerpo de mujer, blancas colinas, muslos blancos,

te pareces al mundo en tu actitud de entrega.
Mi cuerpo de labriego salvaje te socava
y hace saltar el hijo del fondo de la tierra.

Fui solo como un túnel. De mí huían los pájaros

y en mí la noche entraba su invasión poderosa.
Para sobrevivirme te forjé como un arma,
como una flecha en mi arco, como una piedra en mi honda.

Pero cae la hora de la venganza, y te amo.

Cuerpo de piel, de musgo, de leche ávida y firme.
Ah los vasos del pecho! Ah los ojos de ausencia!
Ah las rosas del pubis! Ah tu voz lenta y triste!

Cuerpo de mujer mía, persistiré en tu gracia.

Mi sed, mi ansia sin límite, mi camino indeciso!
Oscuros cauces donde la sed eterna sigue,
y la fatiga sigue, y el dolor infinito.
"Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada"
Esta obra fue escrita por Pablo Neruda
Publicada originalmente en Santiago de Chile por Editorial Nascimento
© 1924 Pablo Neruda y Herederos de Pablo Neruda

Hemos perdido aún éste crepúsculo, de Veinte poemas de amor

" Nadie nos vio esta tarde con las manos unidas
mientras la noche azul caía sobre el mundo.
He visto desde mi ventana
la fiesta del poniente en los cerros lejanos.

A veces como una moneda

se encendía un pedazo de sol entre mis manos.

Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada

de esa tristeza que tú me conoces.

Entonces, dónde estabas?

Entre qué gentes?
Diciendo qué palabras?
Por qué se me vendrá todo el amor de golpe
cuando me siento triste, y te siento lejana?

Cayó el libro que siempre se toma en el crepúsculo,

y como un perro herido rodó a mis pies mi capa.

Siempre, siempre te alejas en las tardes

hacia donde el crepúsculo corre borrando estatuas. "
XX

Aş putea scrie cele mai triste versuri în această seară.

Să scriu, de pildă: "Noaptea e înstelată,

şi se-nfioară, albastre, stele-n depărtare".

Adierea nopţii dă roată cerului şi cântă.

Aş putea scrie cele mai triste versuri în această seară.

Am iubit-o, iar uneori m-a iubit şi ea.

În nopţi ca cea de-acuma în braţe o ţineam,

O sărutam iarăşi şi iarăşi sub cerul nesfârşit.

M-a iubit, iar uneori am iubit-o şi eu.

Cum să nu-i fi iubit ochii cei mari şi liniştiţi?

Aş putea scrie cele mai triste versuri în această seară.

Să mă gândesc că n-o mai am. Să simt că am pierdut-o.

Să ascult noaptea imensă, mai imensă fără ea.

Şi versul se-aşterne-n suflet ca roua pe-o păşune.

Ce mai contează că dragostea mea nu a putut-o ţine.

Noaptea este înstelată şi ea nu e cu mine.

Asta e tot. În zare, cineva cântă. În depărtare.

Sufletul mi-e neconsolat că am pierdut-o.

Ca să mi-o apropii, privirea mea o caută.

Inima-mi o caută, şi ea nu e cu mine.

Aceeaşi noapte care văruieşte aceiaşi arbori.

Noi, cei de atuncea, nu mai suntem aceeaşi.

N-o mai iubesc, e sigur, dar cât am mai iubit-o!

Vocea mea căuta vântul s-o poarte către auzul său.

A altuia. Va fi a altuia. Ca a săruturilor mele odinioară.

Vocea ei, corpul ei luminos. Ochii ei infiniţi.
N-o mai iubesc, e sigur, dar poate am iubit-o.
Pe cât de scurt e amorul, pe-atât de grea-i uitarea.

Pentru că în nopţi ca aceasta în braţe o ţineam,

Sufletul mi-e neconsolat că am pierdut-o.

Deşi aceasta va fi ultima durere pe care mi-o provoacă,

iar acestea, ultimele versuri pe care i le voi scrie.
Iubire neştiută

Deja sîntem de mult timp împreună,

Dar nu ne ştim
Iubirea încă.
Probabil
Este mai mare decît mine,
Mai mare decît tine şi mine?
Nu există cale de a o purta înăuntrul nostru,
Deoarece noi trăim în ea.
Înăuntrul ei
Rîdem şi plîngem,
Rostim cuvinte mînioase
Şi căutăm un mod
De a fi altfel.
Înăuntrul ei
Ne iubim
Fără a şti
Ce este:
Un nor uriaş,
O Arcă a lui Noe
Sau o cometă de scrum…
Ar trebui să o părăsim amîndoi
Pentru a o înţelege…
Dar există o soluţie mai simplă:
Să trăim mereu împreună
Şi să murim
Într-una şi aceeaşi zi.
GHEORGHI KONSTANTINOV
traducere din limba bulgară de Gabriela BLENCHEA
Singuratatea omului

Sa-ti faci putini prieteni. Din tine nu iesi.

Caci prea des falsitatea credinta ne-o infringe.
Cind ti se-ntinde-o mina, -nainte de-a o stringe,
Gindeste-te ca poate te va lovi-ntr-o zi.

Sa nu-ti dezvalui taina din suflet celor rai.

Nadejdile, - ascunse sa-ti stea de lumea totat.
In zimbet sa te ferici de toti semenii tai,
Nebunilor nu spune durerea niciodata.

O, tinar fara prieteni mai vechi de doua zile,

Nu te-ngriji de Cerul cu-nalte-i festile!
Putinul sa;ti ajunga, si zavorit in tine,
Tacut contempla jocul umanelor destine.

Pe cei curati la suflet si luminati la minte

Neincetat sa-i cauti. Si fugi de tonti si rai.
Daca-ti va da otrava un intelept, s-o bei -
Si-arunca antidotul, un prost de ti-l intinde.

Renume de-ai sa capeti, hulti vei fi de vulg.

Dar daca te vei tine departe de multime,
Uneltitor te-or crede. Cum, Doamne, sa ma smulg,
Sa nu ma stie nimeni si sa nu stiu de mine?

Mai toarna-m vinul rosu ca un obraz de fata.

Curatul singe scoate-l din gituri de ulcioare.
Caci, in afara cupe, Khayyam azi nu mia are
MAcar un singur prieten cu inima curata.

Cel care are piine de astazi pina mine

Si-un strop de apa rece in ciobul sau frumos,
De de-ar sluji pe-un altul ce-i este mai prejos?

Cind zarile din suflet ni-s singura avere,

Pastreaza-le in taina, ascunde-le in tacere.
Atit timp cit ti-s limpezi si vaz, si-auz, si grai -
Nici ochi si nici ureche, nici limba sa nu ai.

Nu stie nimeni taina ascunsa Sus sau Jos.

Si nici un ochi nu vede dincolo de cortina.
Straini sintem oriunde. Ni-i casa in tarina.
Bea - si termina-data cu vorbele de prisos!
Tirzii acum mi-s anii. Iubirea pentru tine
Mi-a pus in mina cupa cu degetele-i fine.
Tu mi-ai ucis cainta si mintea ingereste.
- Dar timpul, fara mila - si roza desfrunzeste...

Putina apa si putina piine

Si ochi tai in umbra parfumata.
N-a fost sultan mai fericit vreodata
Si nici un cerseteor mai trist ca mine.

Atita duiosie la inceput. De ce?

Atitea dulci alinturi si-atitea farmece
In ochi, in gals, in gesturi - apoi. De ce? Si-acum
De ce sint toate ura si lacrima si fum?

Batrin sint, dar iubirea m-a prins in capcana.

Acum buzele tale imi sint si vin si cana.
Mi-ai umilit mindria si biata ratiune,
Mi-ai sfisiat vesmintul cusut de-ntelepciune.

Tu vezi doar aparente. Un val ascunde firea.

Tu stii de mult aceasta. Dar inima, firava,
Tot vrea sa mai iubeasca. Caci ni s-a dat iubirea
Asa cum unor plante le-a dat Alah otrava
De ce sa fie sclavul unui egal cu sine?

Omar Khayam
 Fluturi

Doi fluturi galbeni

Zboara pereche-nspre cer.
Nu stiu de ce,
Unul porneste deodata-n jos
Si-l lasa pe celalalt
Singuratic si trist,
Satul de-orice pofta
Sa mai urce spre cerul
Si -asa prea pustiu.

Hu Shi (1891 - 1962)

My Way Frank Sinatra

Album Title: Frank Sinatra: The Reprise Collection, Disc 3

And now, the end is here

And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Regrets, I've had a few

But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way

I've loved, I've laughed and cried

I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way"

For what is a man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way

Yes, it was my way

Cred cã poezia nu va dispãrea niciodatã" - (dialog cu poetul Andrei Zanca)

Poezia ar începe dupã mine, la acelasi nivel, ca în frumoasã parabolã a

cãlugãrului: el se plimba pe o cãrare si vãzînd o creangã uscatã pe jos, spuse: vorbeste-mi
despre Dumnezeu; iar creanga brusc înflori.)
Cred cã este cea mai frumoasã povestire pe care am auzit-o vreodatã, si în acelasi
timp o definitie a tuturor strãduintelor spre care ar trebui sã tindem, indiferent prin ce
activitate - în fiecare din ele este o dozã de poezie ( de aceea cred cã poezia nu va dispare
niciodatã), o creangã care asteaptã a înflori…
Poezia nu este ceea ce spune, ci ceea ce atinge intim si atît de fragil ca o aripã de
fluture.
Este efectul fluturelui, în care nu numai cã nu cred, ci în spre care ne îndreptãm cu totii
dupã atingerea ultimei faze a polaritãtii la care am fost supusi – de altfel singura noastrã
vinã, singurul nostru pãcat, e constinta noastrã polarã – stingerea.

………………………………………………………………………………………………
..

Tot ceea ce ne agaseazã în lumea exterioarã, se aflã în germene si în noi. Noi sîntem
lumea. Lumea nu este decît o oglindã a lãuntrului nostru: de aici, cîti oameni/pictori,
atîtea realitãti-maya/ atîtea variante ale aceluiasi peisaj. Cîtã vreme ne agaseazã un zgîrcit
spre exemplu, încã nu ne-am asumat si recunoscut propria zgîrcenie adînc pititã în
lãuntrul nostru, umbrele, cum le numea Jung, din noi…
Antipatiile mele sînt propriile mele umbre, pe care în însingurarea reîntoarcerii, în de-
lumirea mea întru transparentã, încerc a le mistui prin a s u m a r e. Agresivitatea (care
are ca fundament teama concretã ori difuzã), pornirile mînioase de orice fel, invidiile,
cheamã agresivitate, cheamã porniri la fel de mînioase, într-un cerc demonic si vicios,
neîncetat reînviat. Sã nu înfierãm, spre a nu fi înfierati. Sã nu judecãm, spre a nu fi
judecati la rîndul nostru.
In-volutie deci în locul re-volutiilor nenumãrate, care au schimbat doar o cãciulã cu alta,
fãrã a produce o schimbare lãuntricã, ca singurã sansã de transfigurare realã si deplin
asumatã….
FEMEIA
280 Femeia este iubita asa cum este iubita muzica, e iubit luxul. Este spirituala sau
este sentimentala si este dorita. Dar ceea ce crede, ceea ce simte, ceea ce poarta in
gand … nu intereseaza pe nimeni. Duiosia pentru copilul ei, grijile cele mai firesti –
toata aceasta parte adumbrita este neglijata […] Dar femeia nu se gandeste mereu
la dragoste : nu are timp !
Curier Sud - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

258 Daca renegi o casa renegi toate casele. Daca renegi o femeie, renegi dragostea.
Vei parasi aceasta femeie, dar nu vei gasi dragostea .
Citadela, CLXXV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

288 Sotia iti va reprosa totdeauna ceea ce dai altcuiva, afara de ea.
Citadela, CLXXV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

289 ……femeia , daca este frumoasa, cheama la ea darurile si jertfele si te imbata cu ceea
ce ii dai. Nu ce ceea ce iti da.
Citadela, XXXVII- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

MELANCOLIE
303 Amintire aultimei vizite , facuta de un tanar locotenent unui batran sergent,
comandantul unui fort pierdut in nisipurile Saharei, este aproape o amintire de dragoste,
Curier Sud, III, 6 - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

314 Adevarata iubire incepe de acolo de unde tu nu mai astepti nimic in schimb.

Citadela, LV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

317 Inainte de orice, dragostea este ascultare in tacere. A iubi inseamna a contempla
[…]
Va veni ora cand nu vei mai cere nimic .Nici buzele, nici zambetul, nici bratul dragastos,
nici rasuflarea prezentei sale. Iti va fi de ajuns ca ea doar sa existe.
Citadela, CCIII - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

322 Daca femeia iti cere sa te ocupi numai si numai de ea si sa te fereci in dragostea ei, iti
cere atunci sa nu mai fii decat egoism in doi, despre care gresit se spune ca ar fi lumina
dragostei, cand de fapt nu este decat focsteril, jaf al hambarelor. Eu nu mi-am strans
proviziile pentru a le fereca intr-o femeie , si pe deasupra sa mai fiu si multumit.
Citadela, LIV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

323 Dorul de dragoste este dragoste. Pentu ca nu ai putea dori ceva ce nu stii ce este.
Citadela, CXCIV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
337 Poti fi nelinistit de setea de dragoste , fara dragoste : dar nu uita ca dragostea nu este
in esenta ei, decat sete de dragoste, lucru stiut din apropieri, cand ar putea sa se uneasca
de la inceput.
Citadela, L - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

332 Daca voi intalni in calea mea pe femeia care se imbujoreaza la fata si se balbaie de
emotie, nici nu ma voi umili si nici nu o voi umili in dragoste [ …] daca ea are nevoie de
mine ca samburele de glie pentru ase face copac, nu o voi inabusi cu ingimfarea mea.
Dar nici nu o voi proslavi de dragul ei
Citadela, LV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

339 Melancolia de a nu simti dragostea este chiar dragoste.

Citadela, CXCIV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

341 Te ingrozeste mai mult suferinta care tace decat suferinta care tipa. Cea care tace
umple camera. Umple orasul. Si nu exista distanta de la care sa n-o auzi. Daca cea care o
iubesti sufera departe de tine, suferinta ei te va ajunge, oriunde ai fi.
Citadela, CLIII - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

343 Adevarata dragoste nu scade prin cheltuirea ei. Cu cat dai , cu atat iti ramane
mai mult. Daca iti stingi setea la fantana cea adevarata , cu cat iei mai mult din ea,
cu atat mai generoasa devine.
Citadela, CXXIII - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

344 Dragostea nu-ti este daruita de un anume chip (de care te-ai indragostit - n.n.),
dupa cum nici multumirea nu este pricinuita de privelistea (din varful muntelui -
n.n.)ci de ascensiunea reusita , de muntele dominat, de ajungerea ta pana la ceruri.
Citadela, XXXV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

346 Oamenii care au trait multa vreme hranindu-se dintr-o mare dragoste, de care
au fost apoi lipsiti, se satura uneori de nobletea lor singuratica. Ei se apropie cu
umilinta de dragoste si isi cladesc fericirea dintr-o dragoste mediocra.
Terre de hommes , VI, 6 - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

347 Durerea unui singur ins face cat durerea lumii intregi. Si dragostea pentru o singura
femeie, oricat ar fi ea de netoata, trage in balanta mai mult decat Calea Lactee, cu toate
stelele ei.
Citadela, XXIX - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
348 Stiu ca a iubi inseamna a recunoaste. A recunoaste chipul citit dincolo de
lucruri. Dragostea nu este altceva decat cunoasterea zeilor.
Citadela, CXX - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

359 Pentru a te face iubit este de ajuns sa plingi. Eu nu pling niciodata sau pling pe
ascuns.
Zbor de noapte - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

360 Nimic din ce am iubit in tine nu are sens material. Buzele tale , da , dar numai
cand alcatuiau acel zambet care face parte din lumea formelor. Nu esenta carnii tale
, ci felul in care este potrivita . Nimic din ce s-ar putea identifica drept fizica sau
chimie, ci numai prin matematica pura(ritmul ) si geometrie pura (forma). Nimic
care sa aiba un alt sens decat unul spiritual.
Carnete, III, 8 - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

362 Daca un barbat iubeste fara speranta o femeie, trebuie sa-i rupa toate
fotografiile pentru a putea trai in pace.
Scrisoare din 1933 - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

366 Neimplinit nu este acela care se indragosteste de fata, apoi se casatoreste cu

femeia, apoi legana copilul, apoi il instruieste pe puiul de om, apoi, batrin, imprastie
intelepciune, mergand tot mereu inainte ci cel care ar vrea sa se opreasca la femeie
si sa se bucure de ea ca de un poem unic sau ca de o provizie agonisita. Aceasta
descopera curind desertaciunea, caci nimic pe pamant nu este rezervor ce nu se mai
termina niciodata [ … ] Atunci el alunga femeia, sau femeia isi schimba iubitul ,
fiind dezamagita . Dar vinovata este numai desertaciunea pretentiei lor Caci nu poti
iubi decat prin femeie, nu femeia. Prin poem, nu poemul.
Citadela, LIV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

DARUIRE
Mare greseala este ca nu-ti dai seama ca a primi inseamna cu totul altceva decat a
accepta. A primi este in primul rand un dar : daruire de sine . Zgarcit nu este cel ce
nu face daruri pentru a nu se ruina , ci cel ce nu-ti daruie lumina chipului său in
schimbul ofrandei tale .
Citadela, LV - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
SIMBOL

738 Un zambet este adesea esentialul. Esti platit cu un zambet. Esti rasplatit cu un
zambet.esti insufletit de un zambet. Si calitatea unui zambet te poate face sa mori.
Scrisoare unui ostatec - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Mare taina este sufletul omului […] Barbatul se simte deznadajduit cand il paraseste
iubita ; dar nu-si da seama cat de mult saraceste cand el insusi nu se mai iubeste [ …] De
acum inainte, pentru acest barbat lumea nu este un miracol. Revarsatul zorilor nu mai
este lumina trezirii lui in bratele ei. Noaptea nu mai este marele sanctuar al dragostei.
Totul s-a mohorat. Totul a devenit mai aspru . Barbatul nu-si mai da seama de dezastru,
asa ca nu-si plinge plenitudinea din trecut. Se simte satisfacut ca este liber, dar libertatea
lui este libertatea lui este libertatea de a nu exista .
Citadela, XII - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Pentru a te deconecta putin, incearca acest joc: Nu ia decat maxim trei minute.
Poate sa te inspaimante, dar incearca-l, nu ai nimic de pierdut... sa speram! Persoana care
mi l-a trimis mi-a spus ca i s-a implinit o dorinta la 10 minute dupa ce a facut testul, dar
este foarte important sa Nu trisezi! Acest joc are un deznodamant amuzant dar si
infricosator in acelasi timp! Nu-ti rapeste decat 3 minute din timpul tau, dar te
asigurcasemerita! Inainte de toate ia o hartie si un creion. Gata? Putem incepe!?Ok...Cand
ti se va cere sa alegi numele unor persoane, fii sigur ca le alegi instinctual, fara sa te
gandesti prea mult, si trebuie sa fie persoane pe care le cunosti si sunt legate intr-un fel
sau altul de viata ta.
FOARTE IMPORTANT: nu trisa! coboara rand cu rand, nu privi inainte!
Vei strica tot jocul! Nu trisa, incepem.....

1. Scrie in coloana cifrele de la 1 la 11;

2. in dreptul cifrelor 1 si 2 scrie doua numere la intamplare;
3. in dreptul cifrelor 3 si 7 scrie numele a doua persoane de sex opus;
4. in dreptul cifrelor 4, 5, 6 scrie numele unor persoane la intamplare (prieteni,familie etc)
NU TRISA! !!!
>> > 5. la 8, 9, 10, 11 scrie 4 titluri de melodii carei iti plac tie
>> > 6. acum pune-ti o dorinta in gand
REZULTATE:
1. trebuie sa vorbesti despre acest joc la un nr de persoane:
>numarul
inscris la 2;
2. persoana de la nr. 3 este cea pe care o iubesti cu adevarat
3. cea de la nr.7 este o persoana pe care o apreciezi mult dar care nu s-ar potrivi cu tine
4. persoana de la nr.4 este cineva pe care tu apreciezi si stimezi foarte mult
5. cea de la nr.5 este o persoana pe care tu o cunosti foarte bine
6. la nr. 6 este persoana care iti poarta noroc.
7. cantecul de la 8 este cantecul pe care il asociezi cu persoana de la 3
8. titlul cantecului de la 9 se potriveste cu persoana de la 7
9. cantecul de la 10 este cel incare te regasesti tu cel mai mult
10. cantecul de la 11 releva sentimentele tale fata de persoana de
la 3
Trebuie sa trimiti acest joc la 10 persoane in ora ce urmeaza dupa ce l-ai facut!Daca faci
lucrul asta, dorinta ta se va indeplini. Daca nu faci lucrul asta, nu numai ca nu se va
indeplini, dar se va intampla
exact contrariul!
Foarte ciudat...dar functioneaza.
Power Deck
These quotes are from the Power Deck, which can be found at most bookstores of good
quality. The cards have meditational pictures on the backs, and are just flat out interesting
and wonderful. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. And I highly recommend buying
the cards, not because I have any vested interest or connection with the company, but if
you've enjoyed them on this page, then you'll enjoy keeping them forever.

1. UNKNOWN
We are all pilgrims on the path to the unknown. We sit in awe and wonder at the
architecture of power. Ripen the receptive void within you, like a womb accepting a seed.
Open yourself to the unknowable, to what is unfamiliar to you, so that the energy of what
you need in order to be whole can flow into you. When you think of yourself as an entity
separate from power, you will obstruct the current, and the power will defeat you.
Identify the form of power you want -- what you want to accomplish, build, create, or be
-- and become that, so that there Is no separating you.

2. BALANCE
The structure of your daily spiritual life must be built on a strong foundation in the
physical world, like a pillar of selected shaman's stones balanced carefully one on
another. Take care of your body through diet and exercise. Express your strength in acts
of power, and bring greater awareness to the exchange of money. Protect and nourish
your family, and express your integrity by bringing balance into society and nature. Then
you will be prepared in the physical for higher spiritual learning. Your being is like a
spirit lodge, the foundation of which is rooted in physical manifestation -- strong against
the storms along the trail to higher consciousness. To take power, make your spirit
available. Take your power and bring your physical and spiritual natures into balance.

3. COMMITMENT

You need commitment to focus on your target, take aim, pull back the bow, and then
shoot your arrow, knowing you will hit the bull's-eye with every shot. To hit the bull's-
eye requires total commitment of your spiritual and physical being. You need only the
commitment to walk down the path through the gateway into your true destiny. It is a
process of gathering. You gather your emotions, your mental strength, and your abilities
as you would gather sheep. It can be a long process, but your commitment gives you
endurance. It is the next step after defining your act of power. Materialize your dreams
and begin to live them. Build that magnificent dream lodge within you with total
commitment.

4. OFFERING
Every day of our lives we take from Mother Earth our energy for life. We forget the
ancient tradition of the sacred giveaway. Take a moment to sit in silence and count the
magnificent things you have in this life, even if only the wonderounsness of being given
life. Reflect on the Great Mother, Mother Earth. Ask yourself; "What have I given back to
her lately to heal her?" Then think of the higher vision of life and balance on this earth,
and realize that the greatest gift you can give this earth and your fellow humans is your
own enlightenment. In this way you tear away the veils of ignorance and present the
magnificence of your being to everyone who experiences you. Everyone around you is
lifted and inspired. This is your offering.

5. QUICKENING
You can never really teach a warrior with words about the unknown; you must use
experience. But if you look into the eyes of a woman of power, you may catch up with
her a little. She has years of truth ahead of you. Her eyes can quicken you like a river
heading toward the rapids. Open yourself with love, not with understanding. You cannot
love with your mind. Listen from your heart. If a camel is walking down a path and
another camel passes him, the first camel will go faster to keep up. This is how power
works. Don't learn everything with your mind. Quicken your spirit by letting go of
attachments and move to a stronger vibration of power.

6. FLOW

The flower of your being begins to bloom when you move with the flow of life. This is a
process of letting go, of moving your consciousness out of your mind and into your body-
mind, which is an inch or two below your navel. Feel your receptivity as you become
still. Watch the river flow as if you were a mountain high above. Be serene, at ease, and
totally within your power. Then let the waterfall of life work for you, as you become like
a twig carried on the surface of the rushing water. Become one with the river, dissolving
the sense of mind and living totally in your instinctual nature. Let go, and relax into the
eternal flow.

7. TRUST
In love there must be trust. Without trust, there is no love. Jealousy is an illness of the
mind and heart. Trust lives in the lodge of your innocence. The heyoka is a warrior of the
Native American tradition who goes into battle backward on his horse with a broken
lance, knowing that the Great Spirit will protect him. It is this kind of trust that you need.
The imbalanced aspects of patriarchal history reside like stone carvings within each of us.
Welcome the new aspects of feminine power in your being even though they may seem
foreign. Trust in the ways of power and the Great Spirit. Know that you are made of
power, and live with trust in your heart.

8. NURTURING
We are the only ones who can heal ourselves -- sometimes with assistance, sometimes
without. Our energy or chakra system corresponds to the energy flow from the earth. If
you listen and feel, the earth will heal you as you heal her -- with the nurturing force of
timeless give and take. Prayer enables you to take power out of the mind and place it in
the hands of the deities of the earth and sky. Try to see through the mirage of social
barriers that cloud the eyes of women and men the world over. Nurture your dreams. Act
in your dreams as you want to act. Find the guarded kivas and sacred places where you
have hidden your heart, and nurture your spirit

9. INNOCENCE
A boat can represent your voyage toward the islands of higher consciousness. That boat is
made from your treasured innocence. We are all born wild and innocent, like a blue
heron. To live in civilization, at a very young age we become like sheep trying to fit in
with the crowd. To maintain your receptive innocence is to listen to your own inner voice.
Know that the powers of the universe are within you.

10. SKILL
Expressing your highest nature through your work is sometimes easiest when work is not
exactly as you wish it to be. There are hidden gifts within friction. Therein lies the secret
way to a graceful life. You are not what you do. Your work is a higher mirror, providing a
reflection from which to learn in your evolutionary process. Then work becomes a higher
skill, and you begin to fine-tune not only your physical self but your spirit. A Zen garden
expresses the essence of life and a highly perfected skill. Come to the inner truth that
produces true skill.

11. TRUTH
Are you living your truth? Your being is like a spirit lodge. Within this sacred place is
your realization and the divine light of your creation. Live in your spirit lodge surrounded
by peace and joy. Outside your lodge is the great wilderness where the rest of the world
lives. That wilderness can become a battleground stained with the blood of ignorance and
earthly pain. To have lasting power in the world, you must earn the trust of those around
you. Most people live without a sacred place within, without a spirit lodge, and they do
not know how to enter the spirit lodges of others. Live within your sacred truth.

12. VIRTUE
Virtue is one of the passive qualities of power. When you pull back the bow, preparing to
set the arrow and define your target, you use the strength, the will, and the focus that you
have collected within that part of yourself called virtue. Virtue is where you find inner
truth. It is a place of illumination, and as that radiance grows within you, it becomes
integrity. Without virtue, there is no inner balance. Virtue comes from the unknown, quiet
things that you do for the world and other people. With each act, your spirit shield
becomes stronger and more beautiful with the symbols of your inner life. Like the deer,
they are quiet symbols. Virtue marks your path on the other side. Like the one who walks
last, the virtuous person is in a position of power. Power often comes quietly. Walk in
beauty and virtue.

13. FEMININE
The world is bereft of feminine consciousness. To bring Mother Earth back into balance,
we must bring back our awareness of her. Language is a barrier between us, but woman
has always communed with woman in an unspoken language. Her roots are entwined
with the essence of Mother Earth, for she too is feminine. Woman is the Keeper of the
Planet and must not let her energy be rerooted by the male systems within woman or
man. We are all in need of world harmony. Mother Earth has been misunderstood, but she
is the universe. She is the womb for all that lives. Feminine consciousness is the energy
that embodies the wisdom you need at this moment.

14. IMAGINATION
Exploring the wilderness of your own soul through contemplation brings you to the altar
of your imagination. To have a circle of imagination in your being, walk with the
untamed, wild, instinctual side of your nature, all the time knowing its power, like a
woman aware of her own pregnancy and yet moving through the round of daily tasks.
You need not focus on the unborn life for its nature to continue to grow. Remember
always that inspiration often comes after reflection, after the seed of creativity is planted.
When you actually begin your creative work, the energy of the universe comes to you and
imagination flows.

15. TRANSFORMATION
The power of your intent leads you around the sacred wheel of endeavor. Begin today
with trust and innocence in the early hours. Imagine a quiet pond, and see the reflection
of your true self. At noon take a moment to close your eyes and dream. Image the
transformation that this day offers you. Seek the strength and wisdom, through your
ability to love, to bring this transformation into action and into the words you speak. At
night give thanks for the illumination you have found. Know that the form of your intent
leads you to the power of transformation.

16. DREAM
One day you will remember the Great Dream, and the way will become known to you.
You entered into life through the veil of the Dream, because your reason for being here
must be kept secret from you until you find your way home. You don't know who you
are, but one fine day you will remember. It is like creation looking for itself. You are in
oneness with all life, though you are not aware of it. You will awaken from the Dream.
Let the Great Mother rest within your spirit. She is the universe. She is the womb of all
life. She is the light that shines from your eyes, illuminating your daily dreams. The
possibilities you dream of will become your reality.

17. PERFECTION
Dream your passion. Fly away. Go through the hoop of your innermost fears and desires.
Meet them and conquer them. What pain from childhood have you not dealt with? Move
into the wound of your most secret fears, and find the seeds of wisdom that are planted
there. Face what upsets you the most; it is a great teacher. Give away whatever is holding
you back -- insecurities, ego, fear of failure or of not being loved, fear of being alone --
and be reborn into a new state of perfection.

18. MYSTERY
A shaman can teach you about power. A magician can train you to become strong in spirit
and competent in your endeavors in life. But to describe how a miracle happens or how
you came to be a powerful magician is to try to explain the mystery. You can talk around
the secrets of power, but if you describe them directly you lose that power and you
destroy the mystery. Welcome the mystery, and allow the miracle of existence to emerge
from the darkness and transform you.

19. GRIEF
Grief deepens you. It allows you to explore the perimeters of your soul. Grief is the only
gateway to certain levels of consciousness, and it is a hard taskmaster. Through grief you
can explore every aspect of your dark side -- anger, pain, abandonment, terror, loneliness;
and these are aspects of the sacred wound that in our daily lives we usually try to ignore.
Grief forces you to look at those parts of yourself that are not yet healed. If you can look
at grief as a teaching, you will grow. The pain of grief is not the only teacher in this life,
but if looked at properly, with awareness and an open heart, it is one of the greatest
teachers of all. The seeds of wisdom and enlightenment are planted within the wounds of
grief. What is lost can only come back to us again in higher ways.
20. HARMONY
Harmony lives in the lodge of balance and involves equilibrium between the physical and
spiritual aspects of your life. For there to be harmony, there must be balance. Imagine
yourself as the hub of a sacred wheel, standing in the center. This wheel must function
every day of your life. If you imagine that the south is your physical self, the west is your
emotional self, the north your spiritual self, and the east your mental self, you see that
you stand in an ancient wheel of truth. Consider whether you spend as much time in the
physical (south) as you do in the spiritual (north). Are they balanced? Are they in
harmony? Reflect on whether you spend more time in your emotions (west) than you do
in your mind (east). Adjust your daily life by being aware of your actions and behavior
patterns to incorporate equal effort in all the directions so that your wheel will function in
perfect harmony.

21. ECSTASY
Ecstasy is a buoyant state of joy. One of the finest ways to maintain a state of joyousness
is to examine the dark side of your being, that instinctual nature most human beings
repress in civilized life. Within your instinctual nature are the seeds of ecstasy. We tend to
live in our minds, in our emotions, occasionally in spirit, and almost never in our
instinctual depths. We are born as wild as mountain lions but live most of our lives like
sheep, forgetting and denying whole parts of ourselves. Sit on the earth with your back
against a tree, and get in touch with your roots, which move deep into middle earth; this
will restore your joyousness and balance. Each day, listen to your body-mind and your
heart. What are they telling you about a given situation? Ecstasy is like a windhorse
waiting to be ridden -- the last wild ride before your passage into enlightenment. Take
courage and live your passion in ecstasy.

22. SILENCE
Before making a decision of power, move into that place of silence and serenity deep
within you. Sit anywhere. Close your eyes and follow your breath in and out. On the third
inhalation, take the breath down into your belly and locate your place of power just below
your navel. Visualize your place of power holding the golden sun, a disk of radiant
brilliance within you. Observe the silence like a deer in a meadow. If you are in pain, use
your consciousness to find where the pain lives within your body. Then move into that
pain and beyond it until you find the sources of silence. In this silence lives your sacred
witness, that which sees all and knows all and is all that you are. Power is born within the
silence.
23. INTUITION
From the left side of your body comes your female energy, whether you are a man or a
woman. Within this femaleness, this feminine consciousness, lives your intuition.
Intuition is the intelligence of your body-mind. You feel what is true with your body-
mind, rather than what you know what is true with your mind. Intuition does not have the
clouds of accumulated knowledge to distort your vision. Intuition simply sees what is the
truth. With intuition you can feel the source of your being without reasoning it away and
being filled with doubt. Doubt destroys your intuition. Find your power always in balance
between mind and intuition.

24. FORCE
Force lives in your will and comes from your intent. Life is a process of pulling back
your bow, aiming your arrow, choosing a target, and shooting. The degree and quality of
the force with which you choose your target and shoot determine your power and your
success. Force is built through your integrity of purpose, your physical tuning, and your
balance of spirit and mind. By naming your act of power, you create force. Follow your
innermost passions in life. Empower your will and your strength of force by manifesting
your secret dreams.

25. IMPECCABILITY
Move into that place of perfection within you, that place of truth, responsibility,
competence, and intuition. Collect your discipline, like a Buddha meditating in a garden
of snow. Impeccability is an area of strength that continues to flame within, maintaining
your power and intent. This flame burns in your center always, indicating the level of
your capabilities and your effectiveness in bringing events into being. Impeccability is
tended by the attentions of your sacred witness -- that person within you who observes
the target. Gather your power with impeccability. With the intensity of a rubber band
pulled and held at its breaking point, gather your intent and focus on your impeccability,
for the job about to be done.

26. GATHERING
This life is like the fulcrum on a scale of balance. Your past and future lives determine the
need for gathering strength in this life. There is a reason for all the pain. As you gather
knowledge from the infinite sea of consciousness and life experience, you begin to
evolve. You fill the gourd of your spirit with knowledge, so that one day it can be emptied
and you may begin to gather wisdom. Become one with all life, and consider the true
importance of what you are gathering.

27. STRENGTH
The person who upsets you most in your life is one of your best teachers. If that person
can get inside your head, turn you around, and confuse you, you know that you still don't
understand what you are doing. You need more strength. Learn by seeing that your life is
a teaching. Like the red lotus healing its pain in inner solitude, gain strength from
entering your wounds, and learn from them. The magician remembers the trail and takes
a different one, even if it is more difficult. In this way, you build strength.

28. CENTERING
Never leave your center. Count your bad points as well as your good. What is good and
what is bad are most often purely relative. If you sense a weakness within yourself,
explore it. It may become the source of your greatest strength. As you sit like a sacred
Buddha amid the pandemonium of your life, always remember that the situation or
person who has the ability to upset you the most, to pull you off center, is your greatest
teacher in the process of centering. Such negativity can become your addiction. Center
yourself in your power, and release your need for constant distraction from your center.

29. ENDURING
Take a stone in your hand and meditate on it, or use the stone surface pictured on the
card. Go into the stone. Experience her quiet soul. The stone welcomes your visit. Let her
experience the inside of your heart. See how you are each an enduring mirror for the
other. You are everywhere, mirroring everything. The stone absorbs you, and you absorb
the stone. How can you be alone if you are part of everything? You are the totality of
enduring existence. Therefore, nothing in existence can upset you.

30. COURAGE
Action takes courage. We often feel like fish out of water, separate and different from the
world around us. Fish out of water can learn to swim in a new air of consciousness with a
new purpose in life. Perhaps it is identification with objects and clinging to addictions
that keeps you feeling separate and keeps you from finding the source of your power: not
only dependence on drugs, sex, or alcohol, but also addictions like fear of failure, the
need for approval, or fear of desertion. Discover your own power and meaning by having
the courage to give up your addictions. Then live your power with courage.

31. INDIVIDUALITY
When the shield carrier reaches the top of the mountain, she never seeks approval,
because approval is based on doubt. Your strength and wisdom are celebrated in your
unique ability to view the experience of life with new vision. Power lies in individuality
and the ability to see yourself through your own eyes and not through the eyes of another.
To be in power, you must take your power and exist within your own individuality.

32. WISDOM
If you are always addicted to the process of becoming, there are storms on your horizon.
This is because if suddenly there is nothing left to become, you are filled with terror;
suddenly you are face to face with your own empty being. Find the sacred space, a
sanctuary of pleasant stillness in your heart. To know that you are truly alone is the first
step on the long journey to self-discovery on the path to power. The final step is to learn
that you are linked with the universe, that you have already become part of everything
and already live in all the lodges of the universe. This is wisdom.

33. ASPIRATION
Aspiration stimulates power. It is your aim spiritually and physically in the world and
involves the totality of your being. Without the balance between the physical and the
spiritual, aspiration is a hollow accomplishment. It is like a spirit lodge at the dome of
which are your ceremonies and rituals. But the spirit lodge must have a strong foundation
of capability, trust of those around you, and responsibility. Aspiration is what builds the
spirit lodge of power. It is the architect of your accomplishments and sits at the feet of
power, as the deer stands before the remnants of an ancient and powerful civilization.
Keep your heart open, kind, and loving, so that the energy of the universe can move
freely through you. It is difficult to aspire without judgment, but judgment limits you and
puts a fence around your consciousness. Give much consideration to all your choices in
life and a free flow to your process of aspiration.

34. FOCUS
Much of what you see in life is an agreement that something is in fact true. To develop
power, focus on one aspect of your life. This could be your career, a sport, or some
endeavor that you have a passion about. Become an expert. In the process of becoming an
expert, you fine-tune your whole being. You collect the important parts of yourself, and
you begin to live the life of a warrior. Rid yourself of attitudes that are not essential to
your task. Collect your energy and focus your power on wondrous and magical acts: let
the shell of your consciousness rise out of the ocean of your subconscious mind. It's just a
matter of focus.

35. TIME
What is time that it has such power to change all that exists back into dust? What is this
unseen force like the wind that can shape the land and our lives. Learn to play with time.
Time is surreal, like fish swimming in treetops. A person of power knows how to arrange
time. Put on your watch and be aware of the time at which you do everything. Watch the
sun, the moon, the transit of the stars. Find out the time that Venus is lowest in the sky
before dawn. Be aware of your cycles -- when you get hungry, when you sleep. Our
society is obsessed with time, so now "become" time. If you're obsessed with something,
it is better to explore it than to deny it. Then it is possible to give up your obsession and
let a concept like time take its proper place in your life. Your power depends on your use
of time.

36. MAGIC
If you do not believe in magic, your life will not be magical. Magic, like the power of
Stonehenge, is part of the unknowable -- that which you cannot describe, but which exists
and makes your life extraordinary. It is part of the goodness of your spirit. It is that
mysterious and intriguing part of your spiritual life. Magic is what we are all looking for,
but if you try to hold it and name it and describe it, you will lose it. You must talk around
magic, describe what led you there, and give thanks for that part of the universe that is
unknowable and full of color and strength and magic. Out of relationship comes magic.
Out of the friction of forgetting and remembering comes magic. Out of the mists of dawn
and the mysteries of creation comes the magic that we call life. Out of your passion for
existence comes magic.

37. ILLUMINATION
As darkness comes, the mirrors of your spirit reflect different images. It is the time when
the world changes and you being begins to glow. Reflect on the new vision that has been
living on the perimeter of your consciousness. An idea is stalking you and awaits your
invitation, a place within you to begin life. The totality of your creativity comes after you
have begun your work on the sacred painting of your life. It is then that the muses of
inspiration surround you like eagles and cheer you on to illumination. Take responsibility
for your work and your life, and then illumination will follow.

38. ESSENCE
Life is like school. We move through it learning many things. cloaking ourselves in
environmental knowledge. You are on the warrior's path toward enlightenment. You must
one day peel away accumulated knowledge like layers of an onion and move back into
the source of your power. When contemplating a Zen garden, you find that the source of
your power is the essence of the Great Spirit. We come onto this earth-walk like a giant
piece of smashed mirror, every one of us reflecting the light of our god. The experience
of life is a process of piecing together these scrambled fragments into one great mandala,
reflecting the one source of all being. Like the center of a cyclone, we sit at the one point
of stillness, the pandemonium of life circulating madly around us. Choose equilibrium,
not frenzy. Live life from your center. The essence of you and the essence of the primal
moving force of the universe are one.
39. DESTINY
Your act of power is the key to your destiny. Like a sacred flute player enticing your truth
of spirit out into the light of day, own your power, because you are made of power. An act
of power comes from a place of passion within your deepest being. It is an expression of
your totality, of who you are in the world. To find your act of power is to live your
dreams. What would you do if you could do anything? Discover what that is, and then do
it. To find your power is to find your destiny.

40. CREATIVITY
Your creativity is like a story; it needs a voice, a way to be heard in the world. Creativity
has moved into your hut. Creativity is part of your future life. People think that creativity
is like stories, that it is outside of them, like truth or power. But it inhabits you like your
own life force, and it animates your being. Creativity is within the crystal palace of your
mind. You are about to go on a long journey. It is called your life. You will learn to heal
the evil forces of darkness. You are a warrior in the fight against ignorance. The dark
sorcerers in life are created within each of us when we live a life of unexpressed
creativity, when we live someone else's truth and not our own. Define your own creativity
and live that creativity in the world.

41. VISION
There are times when you will have less vision, and because of that dimness you will
become unbalanced in your seeing; you will see everything -- every stone, every
machine, every tree -- as dead rather than alive. As your vision grows, sit still within the
city,, and begin to develop and to see that stones and plants and even machines are alive.
Even the dead trees have passed through the gateway in the west. Their spirit carries the
Dreaming Shield. Begin to see the life within every object. Begin to see the sacredness in
things, their energy, their colors, their luminous forms -- their shadow beings. Then you
will become strong. See power all around you;it is you. You have developed true vision.

42. RELEASE
Anytime you are possessed by an emotion that you cannot control, know that it does not
belong to you. Someone is sending negative energy toward you. Imagine that the negative
emotion is muddy water pouring down through your hands, legs, and feet and into the
earth. Or take that emotion into your hands and release it like a hawk -- let it fly away.
We tend to hold on to fears and negative energy in an addictive way. Release your fears
and let her power come into you. Create a welcoming void within, through the power of
release.

43. MASCULINE
Carrying your gift of consciousness from the heart of woman, of Mother Earth, trek
toward the summit of higher knowledge. Because of male and female imbalances, the
earth is in danger of dying. Remember that the power of the masculine explodes as the
power of the feminine implodes, and a sacred spiral of life is set into motion. One cannot
live without the other. The masculine God is in search of the feminine Goddess. He
brings gifts of driving force to her powers of intuitive, creative receptivity. Both are equal
warriors in the fight against ignorance. Balance your masculine and feminine energies
through meditation and awareness of when you are carrying a male or female shield. This
is your struggle in life and a great source of power for you.

44. WITNESS
Live in your sacred witness. That inner place of silence and observing is your true
identity and therefore your true power. It is all you really have when all else is gone. Like
monoliths in an ancient valley, they observe and remember the passage of the ages. The
answers that you find through the timelessness of spirituality and the innocence of nature
offer the infinite. Each human being is on his or her own path, each different from yours.
Answers to your questions are rarely found in another human. Answer your own
questions by reflecting on nature and conversing with your own sacred witness.

45. HUMOR
Humor, fear, and anger awaken the power of your will. In the juxtaposition of realities,
find truth, as in the primitive positioned in the wilderness of an urban setting. See how
you have chosen your illusions, as others have, and seek to feel the laughter that holds
together your daily dream. Self-importance blinds you to the source of joy and humor.
Awaken the power of your will, and find your joy and your laughter. Awaken your sense
of humor.
petru cretia / norii
fragmente

De ce e-asa de greu sa-i tinem pina si pe nori, cu cerul lor, in triumful

clipei? De ce aluneca si ei in timpul nostru, peste atitea zile unde nu
mai sintem sau unde niciodata nu vom fi?

Cerul nu numai ca ne insoteste pretutindeni, ci face parte tot mai mult

din noi.

In neincafiinta fiintind, sub cer, atitea lucruri isi asteapta ora.

Nu numai cerul: poti privi asa orice. Caci totul se ascunde in propria
sa revelatie. Iar lumea intreaga nu este decit o falsa minciuna.

Si tot jucindu-ne asa, spunind una sau alta, bagam de seama intr-o zi
ca, pentru a iubi destul ce este de iubit, e prea tirziu, oricit ne-am mai
grabi. Ca nu s-a potrivit ce stim cu ce sintem si cu ce facem, ce vrem
cu ce-ndraznim si ce putem, ce tinem minte si cu ce-am uitat, ce e in
gind cu ce-i in vis, nici ce devine cu ce vesnic este.

Ce miini cladesc, din marmura, in cer, tamiia marii.

Frumusetea lucrurilor si a lumii o simtim doar cind accedem la o

anumita inlesnire si libertate, dar nimeni nu stie inca dupa ce legi; si-
apoi, cind banuiesti, parca iti vine sa taci.

Putini au harul de a trai cum se cuvine clipa. Nu de-a se bucura

marunt, grabit si speriat de ea, in umbra mortii. Ci de a face din
prezent, care e singura realitate, ceva mai mult si mai putin decit o
intimplare: act, contemplatie si pasiune, plin de puterea ce si-o trage,
cu radacini si ramuri mari, din tot ce-a fost si credem ca va fi, dar mai
ales din forta lui interna de a fi cu-adevarat si de-a-si ajunge, dupa
masura adevarului si a iubirii puse-n el.

Furtuna potolita, floarea vesteda, minunea citorva amurguri, roua

zorilor, facerea si desfacerea norilor si a gindurilor ne mai asteapta
oare undeva pe alt tarim, iubite cum ne-au fost?

Sa avem o moarte fara identitate, dar fara odihna, in ceva mai vast, ca
a riurilor in mari.

Devenirea fiind ceva care este si nu este in aceeasi clipa, in lume

trebuie sa fie mereu ceva triumfal si ceva trist, o fata de lumina si una
de umbra intoarse spre trecut si viitor, tangente fiecarei clipe.
A cauta inseamna una dintre-acestea: sa te inalti, sa te cufunzi, sa
mergi departe. Orice gasire poarta-n ea masura uneia din trei.

Astazi trufasa rasuflare a marii mirosea a norii mistuiti in trupul ei.

Fara intindere si fara loc, sufletul e plin de-atitea spatii si toate

lucrurile isi gasesc in el un loc.

Mirosim flori impalpabile si amare, care au inflorit altundeva si in alt

timp.

Putine lucruri vizibile se prefac atit de mult si-atit de repede sub ochii
nostri ca norii.

Indiferent de cit dureaza fiecare lucru, toate participa la aceeasi

eternitate.

O, cit de dulce a fost ieri pustiul diminetii.

A trai inseamna a trai viata ta si totodata atita din viata lumii cit
incape in viata ta. Iar lumea insasi traieste o vreme impreuna cu tine.

Lumea dinafara si cea launtrica sint de alt ordin, iar raportul care se
instituie intre ele e mijlocit de ceva care le cuprinde si le constituie pe
amindoua.

O parte dintre sentimentele noastre sau mai exact dintre anumite

determinari ale lor sint de obirsie cereasca. Din ele emana o miscare
care tinde sa cuprinda lumea intreaga.

Priveste mereu si indura mereu si bucura-te ca de fapt totul ar putea

fi altfel si bucura-te ca se intimpla sa fie tocmai asa si ca datului si
marginirii poti sa'i raspunzi cu nesfirsita libertate a iubirii, care este
totodata acceptare si depasire a datului, incatusare si vis.

Cele mai multe clipe din vreme si din univers nu sint in nimeni nici
traite, nici ramase.

Cerul e vesnic plin de nasteri si pieiri si vesnicii, de infinite zboruri

undeva oprite, de lacrimi niciodata plinse si de o bucurie fara tarm si
fara leat.

Se pot visa si ceruri care nici n-au fost, nici nu pot fi.

Nu stie carnea norilor ce e durerea, pofta, satiul, mormintul.

Iubeste-i primaverii si umbrele, cruzimea, razvratirea, zimbetul
echivoc, iubeste-i cetii albul intuneric, iubeste-i marii nepasarea si
uitarea.

Lumea acestei clipe nu e facuta din piine si din miere, nici din carne
dulce de fata. Este facuta din nori si din umbre de nori. Din peisaje ale
mintii, poroase ca aerul, in care barbati si femei sint ca niste copaci in
mers si ca niste trestii clatinate de vint.

Cum citeodata bucuria si tristetea pot uni apele lor si curge impreuna,
murmurind fara de tel un cintec nou.

Din destramarea orei n-a mai ramas nimic decit un zbor de clipe in
nimenea ramase.

Eternitatea nu se afla in durata, ci in clipa, iar largul lumii este in

adincul ei.

Puterea si difuzia luminii in vazduh si in spatiul ochilor nostri ne fura

ceva din puritatea, caldura, intensitatea si contrastul culorilor: mult
mai frumosi sint norii din oglinzi, din lacuri, sau priviti dintr-un adinc
ori de fintina, ori de groapa.

Oare e cu putinta sa visezi ca tu esti visatorul, tu visatul? Sau ca visezi

ca te-a visat un altul si anume cum? Sau sa visezi ca tu esti altul,
raminind tot tu? Sau cind visezi, in vise, ca visezi, sa te cufunzi, din vis
visat in vis, in propria ta inalienabila esenta?

Astrele inflacarate si crude se infrupta lacome din carnea noptii si se

exalta cu ea, pierind cu ea.

Ca unor pasari de ograda le-a placut sa ne reteze bietele aripi, sa nu

zburam cumva peste ostrete in vreo curte fermecata. Si-atunci ne-am
miniat si ne-am inchis in noi, ca intr-o temnita, gindindu-ne, cu ochi
plecati, cu ochi inchisi, vara ginduri de iarna, iarna ginduri de vara,
sau ginduri de tot felul, facindu-ne ca ne gindim la cer si doar la el,
cum se cuvine unor osinditi. Cind, obositi de-a nu fi inteles prea mult,
ni se facea din cale-afara de urit, scriam posomoriti in colb cu o nuia
subtire, visind la altceva. Si ne-am uitat glasul. Chiar si acum, cind
scriem, din semne nu se infiripa glasul nostru. Iar chipul din oglinzi ne
pare doar o amintire stearsa si indiferenta, ireparabil maculata de
ceva nu doar din altii si din timp sau intimplari. Ne vine sa vorbim
prea mult, ne vine sa tacem prea mult, si trepte nu mai cresc, in sus,
sub pasul nostru. Ceva s-a intimplat cu noi. Ceva de buna seama grav,
si nu numai cu noi. Dar, iata, tot mai zgiriem pe stincile prea tari,
posaci si indaratnici, efigia fara de seaman, alba, a sperantei.
Puterea cerului nu e doar in grindina si in virtej, in arsita si vijelie, in
potop si trasnet.

Spunem c-a fost frumos, c-a fost urit, frig, ploaie, vint sau soare, dar
citi vorbesc la cina despre lantul de munti inalti si albi care-au
incununat in namiezi orizontul si despre raza ingusta care, dinspre
sud, le-a fulgerat pe piscuri si-apoi i-a macinat in propriile umbre?

E ora de vara cind lumina ascunde lucrurile.

E in adincul nostru o tacere in care se impaca toate sunetele lumii.

Toate coboara si urca in tristete. Ea este statornica instrainare si

intoarcere in sine a fiintei, tacerea din adincul oricarei muzici,
inserarea ce creste cu zorii laolalta, plinsul abstract al oricarei
definitii, esenta si ceata, prohod neauzit, vis latent al treazului suflet
al lumii, posibil nicicind implinit. Statornica, nu-i place, luind mereu
forma sufletelor trecatoare, sa vorbeasca limba lor trecatoare si se
cere inteleasa si stapinita cu mintea, nefiind stare, ci un raport
inteligibil, adesea intre distante mari sau uitari absolute carora le este
ascunsa lege comuna. Si nu-i e draga nevolnicia si tinguirea, ci taria
buzelor care o simt amara si-o pastreaza. Durerea care se stie pe sine
deplin ia asupra-si tristetea lumii intregi si o intoarce lumii ca
dragoste mihnita si eterna. Este in alb si rosu, in negru si in aramiu,
in stinca si in cenusa, in dreapta si in cerc. Anotimpurile, viata si
moartea sint chipuri tristetii siesi egale. Fierbinte in foc, e puternica
in lumina, lina in umbra, salcie in vint, se clatina in lacuri cu
privelistile a caror soapta intoarsa este fapta ei. E albastra in cer,
searbada in aer. Se stelele sint triste, si zapezile si toate fapturile,
nestiind. Bucuria ii este doar cununa si zimbet, funingine ura, timpul
imagine miscatoare, clipele ninsoare de aripi care umplu trecutul. Se
afla in ochii biruitorilor si in ai biruitilor, in ai fecioarelor si ai
statuilor. E limpede in ape si muta in pamint, grea in soare. Cu
amintirea se cufunda si se iroseste lent ca un fum in spatiul fals al
unei oglinzi. Merge cu lanurile minate de vint, curge cu riurile catre
mare si se face valuri cu valurile ei, dind spumei uscatul ei freamat. In
intuneric e intunecata si verde in frunzisuri, verde in ierburi, galbena
in nisipul desert. Traieste cu mintea care se consuma in timp,
depasindu-se si neimplinindu-se niciodata. Sta intre stele si cade
stearpa cu ele, inchinind pulberii lumina. Si tot ce trece trece cu
tristete, pe linga ceea ce ramine cu tristete, sub niste ochi fara zimbet
si orbi.

Aproape tot ce este dat in clipa este numai intilnire.

Oare ce anume a compromis atit de grav culoarea roz?

Violetul are in el ceva insufletit, dar fara bucurie.

Priveste cerul ca pe-o simpla intimplare si-are sa-ti para mai frumos,
si ai sa fii mai fericit in vesnicia clipei fara timp.

Clipa este ceva care da si ia cu-acelasi gest.

Singuratate, pulchra soror, as vrea sa-ti dau inima mea, dar tu esti
inima mea, Soledad. As vrea sa-ti dau amintirile mele, dar amintirile le
avem impreuna, aceleasi, pentru ca tu m-ai insotit mereu. Te simteam
uneori ca o lumina rasfrinta de apele marii, mi-ai fost ceata si noapte,
mi-ai fost putere. Mai tii minte desigur rasaritul acela pustiu, obosit
ca un amurg. Sau dupa amiaza alba cind moartea a incercat sa-mi
sfisie inima cu ghiara ei de cristal si cind a biruit iubirea, lasindu-ma
durerii si lumii. Ape limpezi se preling ca niste lacrimi negre pe piatra
neagra a unei stinci, asa te simt uneori. Si te mai simt ineori purificata
de orice intimplari, forma pura. Soledad, mai e putin si o sa plecam
impreuna, tineri cum am fost, peste virste, mereu.

Numai femeile stiu sa iubeasca. Heloise si Abelard s-au despartit de multi ani.
Fiecare cirmuieste, ca staret, cite o minastire si pentru toti ceilalti ei traiesc dupa cuviinta
crestina. Dar cind Abelard scrie Heloisei ca de mult n-o mai iubeste decit intru Hristos, ea
raspunde: "Dieu le sait... que c'est vous, bien plus qu'a Lui que je desire plaire". Dupa ce
spusese lucrul acesta, dincolo de orice comentar: "Je pleure non pas les fautes que j'ai
commises, mais celles que je ne commets plus."

De altfel e si cea mai frumoasa declaratie de dragoste: "Simt ca te pot parasi. Te iubesc
atat de mult incit s-a implinit ceva in mine - si acum te pot parasi".
E inutil sa intorci capul. S-ar putea sa vezi nedumerire. Cind pleci, e bine sa crezi ca ai
socotelile incheiate.

E ceva deprimant in verbul grec: agapao, a iubi. El inseamna nu numai a iubi, dar si a se
multumi cu, a se resemna. De la fericirea dragostei treci insensibil la tristetea resemnarii.
(Poate pentru ca grecii vedeau totul in limite, si chiar si a iubi nu era, pentru ei, o
pierdere.) Si mi-e ciuda ca filologii se bucura. Ce-i intereseaza pe ei altceva decat
prefacerea intelesurilor? Sunt "liberi".
Dar cindva vor plati pentru asta.

constantin noica / jurnal filozofic

fragmente
 Despre care bucurie, va veti intreba, ca multa pricina de bucurie nu ne-a fost
data in anii acestia tulburi si amari. Si totusi ma voi incumeta sa vorbesc despre bucurie
si sa arat cate temeiuri are ea in vietile noastre, in orice vreme si aproape orice-ar fi.
Bucuria nu depinde nemijlocit si supus de imprejurari, ea este o putere vie a sufletului si
isi trage puterea din propria ei esenta. Ea stie sa alega chiar si putinul bine cat se afla
intr-o stare de lucruri si sa-l aseze mai presus de tristete,facandu-si din floare gradina.
O vorba buna, o inseninare a cerului, un ras de copil, un gest de prietenie, un act de
indemanare sau de istetime, o delicatete a cuiva, mirosul zapezii, o amintire fugara ii
ajung. Sufletul capabil de bucurie este bogat, cuprinzator si cald, deschis catre ale lumii
si catre semeni. Omul care stie sa aleaga bucuria nu cauta raul cu lumanarea, nu se
vaicareste cat e ziua de lunga, nu cauta la fleacuri, priveste lucrurile cu ingaduinta si cu
zambet, nu face din tantar armasar si nu este niciodata mohorat sau posac. Pentru ca
viata lui este partasa la lumina, nu la umbra. Cine-ar citi Paradisul lui Dante ar vedea
ca e alcatuit numai din vesnica bucurie nu ca acela facut din munti de pilaf si din rauri
de lapte si ca toata bucuria aceea e pura lumina.
Ceva din ea poate fi simtita in atatea clipe ale trecatoarei noastre vieti sublunare.
Cei apti pentru bucurie, si totodata vrednici de ea, stiu sa se bucure si de ceea ce, bun
fiind dar firesc, trece nebagat in seama, cum ar fi sa fii sanatos sau liber, sau la casa ta.
Sau ca necazurile iti ingaduie si un mic ragaz, ca ai constiinta impacata si curata sau, de
ce nu, ca nu este chiar atat de rau cat ar putea sa fie. Am auzit in privinta aceasta sfada
unora, ca adica a spune "bine ca nu-i mai rau" este o slabiciune, ca face jocul stapanirii,
care ne vrea multumiti cu putinul pe care ni-l da, ca este o demitere de la datoria de a-ti
reclama drepturile tale legitime. Numai ca acestia incurca doua planuri distincte: poti
foarte bine sa ai darzenia si curajul de a lupta pentru indreptarea lucurilor si in acelasi
timp sa te bucuri de ceea ce ai, gandindu-te ca barem nu te afli la vreme de razboi sau de
molima, ca nu ai a te teme de zbiri, ca nu esti supus la cazne, ca ii poti, cat de cat, ocroti
pe ai tai, ca traiti in iubire si in buna pace, ca ti-s copii zdraveni si voiosi, poate chiar
destepti si poate chiar frumosi sau amandoua la un loc.
Si mai este o bucurie, proprie oricarui suflet bine nascut: aceea a priceperii si a puterii
de a face bine si cu drag ceea ce faci, bucuria lucrului bine facut, de la un scaun pana la
un poem. Ba, chiar un mare ganditor din prima jumatate a acestui veac spune ca bucuria
este mai ales aceasta: semnul de la fire al unei izbanzi si al unei impliniri, al unui spor
adus lumii prin faptuirea ta.
Dar pentru asta trebuie sa traiesti pe masura puterilor tale, sa-ti gasesti locul tau
adevarat, sa te multumesti cu a fi ceea ce ai fost menit sa fii. Multi se instraineaza de
bucurie, tocmai pentru ca se instraineaza de ei insisi.
Si, dincolo de orice bucurie anume, mai este simpla bucurie de a fi, de a te afla in lume si
nu in nefiinta, de a trai, faptuind si indurand, de a simti cum se perinda, schimbatoare,
anotimpurile si anii, de a fi partas la vremea ta si a vedea ce se mai intampla, cand mai
bine, cand mai rau, de a trai in asa fel, incat moartea ta sa fie ca desprinderea si
caderea la soroc a unui fruct copt si plin de buna samanta in viata lumii.
Bucuria nu este, asadar, o oarecare disponibilitate contingenta, ci o virtute care, cum am
spus, deriva dintr-un principiu interior, activ si dinamic, putand functiona independent
de ce ti-a fost dat. Fara aceasta virtute, orice si oricat ai avea, oricine ai fi, chiar si
Cressus, te mananca tristetea, pustiul si uratul.