Prapastia / The abyss

Prapastia din vis se adancea nebuna in fata privirilor mele demente si ma atragea cu o forta pe care nu mi-o explicam, pentru ca stiam amandoi ca nu vreau sa o inteleg. Si ma apropiam de marginea ei, cu pasi marunti, dar siguri, manata de curiozitate si de dorinte autodestructive, priveam spre abis cu pupilele dilatate.

Sursa foto

In prapastie vedeam zambetul tau, unic, fermecat, si lacrimile mi se opreau in suflet si inghetau acolo, sangele clocotea si o lua la fuga spre inima, si o dorinta nebuna ma indema sa invat sa zbor. Imi spuneam ca nu trebuie sa ai aripi ca sa zbori, atata timp cat zborul e descendent. Numai sa ajung la tine, sa-si sterg lacrima pe care o simteam pe obrazul tau.

Simteam perechi de maini mute cum ma opresc, ma apuca cu disperare de brate, de par, de picioare, dar calcam inainte, cu pas rar si decis, cu privirea din ce in ce mai salbatice. Pamantul sub picioare devea din ce in ce mai aspru, il simteam cum aluneca sub talpa mea, si in loc sa ma tem, ma umpleam de o bucurie nebuna: mai era putin si ajungeam la tine. 

M-am oprit la marginea haului sa privesc inca odata lumea din jur: trecutul, viitorul, prezentul jalnic. Ce pierdeam, sau cine ma pierdea. Am zambit triumfator, am tras aer in piept si am infruntat realitatea: m-am aruncat in gol.

Plutesc, sau zbor, si asta de o vreme. Te vad din ce in ce mai aproape, ma imbat cu tine, si astept sa imi finalizez picajul, sperand ascuns ca undeva, pe parcurs, sa ma opresc brutal in bratele tale, inainte de a ma imprastia pe fundul prapastiei fara nume.

***

The abyss in the dream loomed crazily before my demented eyes and drew me with a force I couldn't explain, because we both knew I didn't want to understand it. And I approached its edge, with slow but sure steps, driven by curiosity and self-destructive desires, I stared into the abyss with dilated pupils.

In the abyss I saw your smile, unique, enchanted, and tears stopped in my soul and froze there, blood boiled and rushed to my heart, and a mad desire urged me to learn to fly. I told myself I don't have to have wings to fly, as long as the flight is downward. Just to reach you, to wipe away the tear I felt on your cheek.

I felt pairs of mute hands stopping me, desperately grabbing my arms, my hair, my legs, but I stepped forward, my step slow and determined, my gaze growing wild. The ground beneath my feet was getting rougher and rougher, I could feel it slipping beneath my soles, and instead of being afraid, I was filled with a mad joy: I was almost there. 

I stopped at the edge of the haystack to look once more at the world around me: the past, the future, the pitiful present. What I was missing, or who was missing me. I smiled triumphantly, took a deep breath and faced reality: I threw myself into the void.

I've been floating, or flying, for a while now. I see you getting closer and closer, I'm falling with you, and I wait to complete my plunge, secretly hoping that somewhere along the way I'll come to a brutal stop in your arms, before I splatter myself to the bottom of the nameless abyss. 

Dor / Missing

Mi-e dor de el, infiorator de dor, in fiecare clipa, ziua si noaptea, cand dorm, cand respir, cand plang, cand rad. Mi-e dor, cu toate ca nu l-am cunoscut niciodata, nu l-am strans in brate, nu l-am sarutat, nu i-am pregatit hainutele, nu i-am mirosit varful capului, sa ma imbat cu mirosul si sa imi dea energia vitala de zi cu zi. Mi-e dor de el si de sentimentul ala pe care mi-l dadea, ca nimic nu mai conteaza daca suntem amandoi, ca traiesc cu el si numai pentru el, ca m-am nascut sa-i fiu aproape, sa il protejez, sa il iubesc, sa il rasfat, sa il fac mare.

Sursa foto

Mi-e dor, si dorul doare si erodeaza si nu pleaca. El a plecat, nici n-am simtit, nici n-am stiut, de parca anestezia ar fi fost facuta dinaintea plecarii sale, si dureaza si acum.

Mi-e dor sa il ascund, in suflet si in trup, sa fie secretul meu cel dulce si frumos, speranta mea, viitorul meu. Mi-e dor sa il visez, sa imi fac planuri pentru el, sa ii fac promisiuni pe care stiu foarte bine ca nu le voi putea respecta. Mi-e dor sa cred ca nu voi mai fi singura niciodata, mi-e dor de singuranta si de lipsa de temeri pe care mi-o dadea. Mi-e dor sa fiu cea mai puternica femeie din lume, pentru el.

Mi-e dor sa nu-mi mai fie dor.

***

I miss him, terribly, every moment, day and night, when I sleep, when I breathe, when I cry, when I laugh. I miss him, even though I have never met him, never held him, never kissed him, never prepared his clothes, never smelled the top of his head, to be imbued with his scent and to give me vital daily energy. I miss him and that feeling he gave me, that nothing matters if we are together, that I live with him and only for him, that I was born to be close to him, to protect him, to love him, to spoil him, to make him great.

I miss, and the longing hurts and erodes and doesn't go away. He's gone, I didn't even feel it, I didn't even know it, as if the anesthesia was done before he left, and it lasts now.

I long to hide him, in my soul and in my body, to be my sweet and beautiful secret, my hope, my future. I miss dreaming of him, making plans for him, making promises to him that I know I can't keep. I miss believing that I will never be alone again, I miss the safety and lack of fear he gave me. I miss being the strongest woman in the world for him.

I miss not missing him anymore.

Un el si-o ea / A He and a She

Despre el si ea nu s-a scris niciodata nicio carte, niciun rand macar, nu s-a compus niciun cantec, nu s-a scrijelit niciun vers pe hartie, pentru ca el si ea nu au existat vreodata, iar povestea lor, nescrisa, necitita, nepovestita, nu a zguduit niciun suflet in pragul serii.

El si ea s-au cunoscut candva, dar nu s-au cunoscut niciodata, iar cand s-au intors cu spatele sa uite, refuzand sa scrie povestea, ecourile le-au rasunat un timp in suflet, le-au brazdat un rid pe frunte, apoi au trecut, pentru ca de fapt nu s-au auzit niciodata.

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El si ea s-au plimbat de mana pe malul marii in Vama, intr-o noapte cu o luna mai mare decat exista, dar nu au facut niciodata vreun pas impreuna, chiar daca din cand in cand isi mai simt picioarele pline de nisip si parul mirosind a mare. Pentru ca marea era prea tulbure si luna nu se oglindea perfect in ea.

Un el si-o ea, niste straini, atat de cunoscuti insa mie si tie, si-au spus totul fara sa rosteasca vreo vorba, s-au privit ore intregi, insa cu ochii inchisi. Si-au dat mana si au refuzat sa mearga mai departe si sa raspunda intrebarilor nerostite.

El si ea, ea si el, prea greu sa inteleaga ce nu era de inteles, prea bland sa nu raneasca, prea trecator sa nu dureze, prea inficosator sa nu fascineze, prea evident sa nu treaca neobservat.

***

No book was ever written about him and her, not a single line, no song was ever composed, no verse was ever written on paper, because he and she never existed, and their story, unwritten, unread, untold, never stirred a soul on the threshold of evening.

He and she once knew each other, but never met, and when they turned their backs to forget, refusing to write the story, the echoes sounded in their souls for a while, furrowed a wrinkle in their brow, then passed, because they never actually heard each other.

He and she strolled hand in hand along the seashore in Vama on a moonlit night, but they never took a step together, even though every now and then they could still feel their sandy feet and their hair smelling like the sea. Because the sea was too murky and the moon didn't reflect perfectly in it.

A he and a she, strangers, so familiar to me and to you, told each other everything without saying a word, looked at each other for hours, but with their eyes closed. They shook hands and refused to go on and answer unspoken questions.

He and she, she and he, too hard to understand what was not to be understood, too soft not to hurt, too fleeting not to last, too inficuous not to fascinate, too obvious not to go unnoticed

Loves me, loves me not

Sursa foto

Mi-am rupt petalele una cate una, incet, ritmic si am ramas acolo, in plansul gol, in fata multimii salbatice, cu genele in pumni si cu margaritare in par. Si pentru o secunda, doar pentru o frantura absurda de timp, rasul lor m-a asurzit, am simtit sangele inghetand undeva intre inima si creier, rozul a devenit negru, sec si crud, iar tu ai devenit strain.

M-am intrebat la rand, de zeci de ori, pana cand cuvintele, repetate la infinit, si-au pierdut sensul si au devenit absurde si fade: oare ce am invatat eu din asta? Si linistea de dupa m-a asurzit, mi-am piedut echilibrul si am inceput sa delirez impartind ganduri in stanga si-n dreapta, fara a cere permisiune sau a primi vreun raspuns de la vreunul dintre umerii pe care am plans.

Nu mai am incredere in oameni. Unii, mai desptepti, experimentati si mai optimisti, recunosc, decat mine, ii spun starii asteia "prudenta in business" si o catalogheaza ca pe un castig. E un fel de a colora golul ca in tablourile 3D, sa creeze iluzia inaltimii, sa ascunda uratul.

Ma rup de ce-a fost, chiar daca am transformat, cu buna stiinta, punctul in trei puncte, si atarn acum in suspensia lor.

Si daca te intrebi si tu ce-am invatat din asta, stai langa mine si asteapta sa imi creasca petalele la loc. Ceva imi spune ca vor fi si mai spectaculoase, colorate cu experiente, asteptari, regrete si bucurii. In linistea din miezul noptii sunt convinsa ca le-am auzit crescand din carne, sfasiind invelisul aspru.

Si daca vor fi  urate si batrane, coloreaza-le cu grija si drag, iubeste-ma si nu ma intreba niciodata ce am invatat din asta!

***

I tore my petals off one by one, slowly, rhythmically, and stood there, crying naked, in front of the wild crowd, eyelashes in my fists and daisies in my hair. And for a second, just for an absurd fraction of time, their laughter deafened me, I felt the blood freezing somewhere between heart and brain, the pink turned black, dry and raw, and you became a stranger.

I wondered in turn, dozens of times, until the words, repeated over and over, lost their meaning and became absurd and bland: what have I learned from this? And the silence afterwards deafened me, I lost my balance and began to deliriously share thoughts left and right, without asking permission or receiving any answer from any of the shoulders I had cried on.

I no longer trusted people. Some, more savvy, experienced and admittedly more optimistic than me, call this state "business caution" and label it a win. It's a way of colouring the void like in 3D paintings, to create the illusion of height, to hide the ugly.

I tear myself away from what was, even though I have knowingly turned the point into three points, and now hang in their suspense.

And if you're wondering what I've learned from this too, sit next to me and wait for my petals to grow back. Something tells me they will be even more spectacular, coloured with experiences, expectations, regrets and joys. In the midnight stillness I am sure I hear them growing from the flesh, tearing at the rough covering.

And if they will be ugly and old, color them with care and love, love me and never ask me what I have learned from this!