I decided to write something different – to tell the truth, I didn’t decide to write it, it just came out without me knowing it. This is not a poem, so don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just a little thing we call nothing -and it is also rather personal.
<Dear Someone, please don’t ever leave me alone
Perhaps I’ve been in this state of loneliness
For as long as I can remember
However, I feel that when I’m with you
Time stops and my loneliness leaves me helplessly
In love with your time
-the time you spend with me>
<For someone like me, who doesn’t know who she is
It’s extraordinary to watch his overwhelming confidence
Maybe if I’ll look at him more often
I will become more like him, and less like me
But I know that’s just a taradiddle
Because I can’t possibly look at him more
than I do now
Watch him all the time, that’s perhaps the only thing
I can do with Confidence>
<I cannot possibly renounce
And abandon myself and my beliefs
But it’s a strange, real story
One always puts on stand-by his beliefs
When there’s an unavoidable circumstance.
One doesn’t forget one’s beliefs
One makes them stop for a minute or two
Just to avoid breaking up with everyone else
in this rotten, stupid world
-and that saddens me greatly>
<The words I write today are helpless
it’s been a while
-from when I starved for words.
It struck me one day, when grandma was sick
that boredom cannot be surpassed
and dreariness sometimes commands chaos
– I can’t write coherently
but I can’t stop writing >
< This is like a bad journal
A diary one keeps involuntarily
There are so many worries I cannot express
I want to fall asleep soundlessly>
<Somehow I think that everything one reads
has to be charged with overwhelming meanings
And the author himself, no matter how incoherent or stupid
is capable -sometimes- of shaking someone else’s peace.
It’s great, and scary
how alike we, sometimes disgusting humans beings,
are and can now and again become>
<Someone once said she doesn’t understand Shakespeare’s style
she demanded the alteration of his entire style -converting Shakespeare’s vocabulary into modern language
I say, why not kill Shakespeare entirely, if we are at it?
I used to love Shakespeare’s works -and I still do
-there are so many ways in which you can kill a person
but if you want to murder an author with cruelty
all you have to do is modify or destroy his original works
-or, well, you know, at least those already modified by hard-headed editors>
<I wonder if I will ever remember what I write now
It’s perhaps my first time trying something like this
In my state of decrepitness
-that often comes and destroys bits of me-
it’s the first time I write incoherently
trying to get rid of the emotions I cannot express properly>
<There are times when people know how they feel
But cannot express it in words.
Right now, I am the same
No matter how much I try
I cannot express anything I feel
-it’s like Issa’s blank haiku (the dew drop world)
that makes one shiver in distress (is just a dew drop world)
It’s stupid -life’s arbitrariness
-it hurts (and yet…)>*
<On a blank page, I wrote words even I cannot understand
-words nobody will ever understand; not even me
or especially not me…>
<I have a thirst I cannot control
It won’t stop
-what can I do?
A fever I caught from nowhere
Should I lie down and sleep?
I feel -and not feel- nothingness>
<Do you understand?
I never understood,
no matter how hard I tried.
Maybe because all I could think of
was going back to him>
<I don’t know what love is
But I feel a certain warmth inside
Whenever I am with him
There’s nothing to worry about anymore
-I believe I am a helpless prisoner>
<Won’t you tell me
that you waited for my return?
Is it too much to ask? -one should never ask to be missed
One cannot ask it
And the other can’t possibly do it, unless the other feels it.
There’s nothing more relaxing
than resting in your eyes.
Easiness -something I desire>
That’s a word nobody knows how to use
but we are a few who think about it
Nothing we know about nothingness
only feelings we are deprived of –
Emotions we know not how to call>.
*Issa‘s haiku (inspired by the death of his daughter, after a series of many other tragedies)
<tsuyu no yo wa tsuyo no yo nagara sari nagara>
(the dew drop world is just a dew drop world
and yet, and yet…)
Blogul acesta este despre nimic și orice în același timp; confesiuni, frânturi din trecerea timpului, lucruri care mă preocupă, lucruri care vin pe neașteptate. Nimic nu este prea serios, nimic nu este prea neserios. Important de știut este nu doar că îmi place să citesc, ci că fără citit nu simt că aș fi eu. Cititul m-a făcut om mare :).