Candva, dar nu azi! / Someday, but not today!

O sa iau toate puntile ce ne leaga, o sa le faramitez marunt, o sa le spal cu cateva lacrimi stoarse intr-o seara inutila, si apoi o sa le arunc de pe un alt pod, mai inalt, in apa limpede.

O sa uit tot, o sa iau un burete mare, galben, care miroase puternic a creta uda, si o sa sterg cu el tabla pe care ai mazgalit niste cuvinte si niste priviri, si niste experiente, si niste vise. Si o sa o sterg totul, cu miscari neregulate. Tabla o sa ramana un timp uda si soioasa, apoi se va usca si vor iesi la iveala urmele pe unde a trecut buretele. Si tabla va mirosi mereu a creta uda.

O sa simt curand sangele curagandu-mi prin vene, rapid si  viu, energizandu-ma la fiecare pas. O sa imi simt fruntea senina si sprancelene relaxate, intr-o urma de zambet.

O sa imi schilodesc trecutul, ca sa fac loc viitorului, asa schiop, cum e si el. Si n-o sa intorc capul dupa ce a fost, sau n-a fost, sau este...

O sa imi creasca aripi si n-o sa-mi fie frica, o sa survolez mica mea lume si o sa pot admira din nou frumosul si sa compatimesc uratul. O sa invat sa simt, sa actionez si sa reactionez.

Candva, o sa reinvat sa traiesc, sa o iau de la un capat, pana la celalalt.

***

I'll take all the bridges that bind us together, I'll smash them up finely, I'll wash them with a few tears squeezed out of a useless evening, and then I'll throw them off another, higher bridge into the clear water.

I'll forget it all, I'll take a big yellow sponge that smells strongly of wet chalk, and wipe with it the board on which you've smeared some words and some looks, and some experiences, and some dreams. And I'm going to wipe it all away, with irregular movements. The board will stay wet and soapy for a while, then it will dry and the sponge marks will come out. And the board will always smell of wet chalk.

I will soon feel the blood coursing through my veins, fast and alive, energizing me with every step. I'll feel my forehead serene and my eyebrows relaxed, in a trace of a smile.

I'll cripple my past to make room for the future, as lame as it is. And I won't turn my head after what was, or wasn't, or is...

I'll grow wings and I won't be afraid, I'll fly over my little world and I'll be able to admire the beautiful again and pity the ugly. I'll learn to feel, to act and to react.

Someday, I'll learn to live again, to take it from one end to the other.