Transparent

Ceata era groasa si umeda, invada interiorul si exteriorul. Ochii trecatorilor lacrimau in cautarea claritatii, brobonele de apa se scurgeau haotic pe ochelari, posete, poposeau pe firele de par rebele, intrau in suflete, reci si clare.

Rochia lunga, cu falduri generoase, usoara si cocheta, nu mai ascundea nimic, era si ea o ceata. Intr-o lume opaca, am ales transparenta totala, plimbandu-ma printre straini cu labirintul sentimentelor la vedere. Stive de vorbe nespuse, aruncate la intamplare, fara a-si mai gasi vreodata locul, alergau prin ceata densa.

Oamenii treceau prin mine, neatenti la dezastrul ce ma tinea ascunsa privirilor lor nepasatoare, si

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fiecare trecere strica si mai tare echilibrul fragil al elementelor care compuneau totul pe care il reprezentam.

Transparenta si invizibila, imi petreceam zilele sortand caractere, punadu-le in sertare mici, incuidu-le pe unele in locuri pe care speram sa nu le mai vizitez vreodata. In zilele cand prea multi calatori treceau absenti prin transparenta mea obscura, seara ma prindea cautand raspunsuri si solutii, varsand lacrimi pe cat de invizibile, pe atat de nimicitor de fierbinti. Si atunci am inceput sa te caut.

Erai o alta silueta ratacita, in noaptea aia cetoasa, ce parea eterna, o alta transparenta absoluta, cu teancurile ei dezordonate de trairi ascunse, cu franturi de povesti din alta lume, cu sperante si cioburi de vise. Te vedeam pentru ca eram atat de transparenta, cu nimic de ascuns, cu un curaj nebun de a schimba totul, acolo, pe loc, de a intoarce roata destinului care ma calcase in picioare fara mila.

Pentru ca in negura groasa ingerii sunt mai vizibili pentru cei care ii cauta bezmetici de nopti intregi, sperand ca, transparenta peste transparenta, sa isi recapete conturul, viata, visele.

***

The fog was thick and wet, invading inside and out. The eyes of passers-by watered in search of clarity, water bubbles dripped chaotically onto glasses, purses, landed on stubborn hairs, entered souls, cold and clear.

The long dress, generously folded, light and flirtatious, hid nothing, it too was a mist. In an opaque world, I chose total transparency, walking among strangers with the labyrinth of feelings on display. Stacks of unspoken words, thrown haphazardly, never finding their place, ran through the dense fog.

People passed me by, oblivious to the disaster that kept me hidden from their uncaring eyes, and each passage further upset the fragile balance of the elements that made up everything I represented.

Transparent and invisible, I spent my days sorting characters, putting them in little drawers, locking some in places I hoped I would never visit again. On days when too many travelers passed absently through my obscure transparency, evenings caught me searching for answers and solutions, shedding tears as invisible as they were hot. And that's when I started looking for you.

You were another lost silhouette, in that foggy night that seemed eternal, another absolute transparency, with its messy piles of hidden traumas, with shards of stories from another world, with hopes and shards of dreams. I was seeing you because I was so transparent, with nothing to hide, with a mad courage to change everything, right there, on the spot, to turn the wheel of destiny that had trampled me mercilessly.

Because in the thick blackness angels are more visible to those who search for them, blindly, for nights on end, hoping that, transparency upon transparency, they will regain their shape, their life, their dreams.

Optimism

Am ajuns odata cu inserarea. Pe maini aveam sange rosu, cald, in suflet aveam un gol mare. Ma priveai crud si rece, dezamagit de tot, scarbit de mine. Murisem si inviasem acolo, sub privirea ta usor sfidatoare, ma tavalisem pe jos, in propria mea rutina, bolnava de tine, umilita de griji, indoita de ganduri negre.

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Mi-am sters fata de lacrimile care curgeau fierbinti pe obrazul meu crapat, si am lasat o dara de sange coborand incet de la ochi catre barba. Am simtit sagetile privirii tale si am stiut acolo, pe loc, ca era ultima secunda.

Incepuse sa ninga. Ascultam muzici ciudate si ma rugam sa-i fie bine. Si ninsoarea ma ascundea de privirea neiertatoare, de toate credintele nefondate, de juraminte, minciuni si ambiguitati. Simteam ca fiecare fulg care imi atingea fata e fierbinte si ma arde, lasand cratere adanci in piele. Mi-am ascuns ochii o secunda si ati disparut, cu totii.

Am ramas singura, pe strada pustie si rece, cu gandurile si grijile sfidandu-ma, cu rasetele care ma asurzeau, cu gandul la sfarsit, si cu rugaciunea in suflet: sa-i fie bine. Si mi-am dorit in secret sa ma salvez salvandu-l pe el.

Spre dimineata m-am ridicat din noroi ca sa fac loc celorlalti. Am clipit des si mi-am admirat mainile curate cu care am pipait apoi obrajii reci.

Soarele stralucea. O sa-i fie bine!

***

I arrived once the evening came. There was warm, red blood on my hands, a big hole in my soul. You were looking at me raw and cold, disappointed in everything, disgusted with me. I had died and gone back there, under your slightly defiant gaze, I was wallowing on the floor, in my own routine, sick of you, humiliated by worry, bent by dark thoughts.

I wiped my face of the tears that ran hot down my cracked cheek, and let a trickle of blood slowly run down from my eyes to my beard. I felt the arrows of your gaze and knew right there and then that it was the last second.

It had begun to snow. I listened to strange music and prayed for his well-being. And the snow hid me from the unforgiving gaze, from all the unfounded beliefs, from oaths, lies and ambiguities. I felt every flake that touched my face hot and burning, leaving deep cracks in my skin. I hid my eyes for a second and you disappeared, all of you.

I was left alone, on the cold deserted street, thoughts and worries defying me, laughter deafening me, the thought of the end, and the prayer in my heart: be well. And I secretly wished I could save myself by saving him.

Towards morning I got up from the mud to make room for the others. I blinked often and admired my clean hands with which I then pecked my cold cheeks.

The sun was shining. He'll be fine!

Despre rataciri / About wandering

Cu fiecare clipa care trece, cu fiecare gand care mi se perinda de dimineata pana in miez din noapte prin creierii obositi, cu fiecare zambet fortat sau hohot retinut, cu fiecare lacrima potolita, cu fiecare soapta secreta, simt cum te pierd.

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Aluneci treptat intr-o uitare grea, iar cand tacerea ta ma amuteste, uit sa mai respir. Iau apoi guri mari de aer, cu sperante impletite, colorate, ravasite, pentru a ma pregati pentru urmatoarea scufundare.

In apa deschid ochii mari si vad valurile navalind peste mine, de un albastru-verzui curat, crud si salbatic ca ochii tai, neintelesi. Si-mi amintesc de cate ori am incercat sa le sparg portile, sa le deslusesc misterul, sa le interpretez chemarea spre abis.

Si-n scufundare simt pulsul cum mi se linisteste, golul din piept mi se umple si in sfarsit nu ma mai gandesc la ce ma doare. Traiesc momentul, inconjurata de apele ce ma strang ironic in corsetul libertatii.

Raman ratacita, intre tarm si larg, plutind pe o pana roz, cu o mana intinsa, pe care nu o vezi, cu un strigat inabusit pe buze, pe care nu l-ai auzit, carand in spate cufarul cu amintiri care ma trage catre adancuri.

Cu fiecare zi in care mai mor cate un pic te caut si sper sa te regasesc, mai mult decat pentru o secunda, mai mult decat in vis, sa-ti fiu mai aproape ca umbra, mai calda ca rasuflarea, mai puternica ca vointa.

Respir sacadat si stau nemiscata, de teama sa nu sperii linistea. A mai trecut o zi.

***

With every passing moment, with every thought that wanders through my weary brain from morning till midnight, with every forced smile or held-back sob, with every quiet tear, with every secret whisper, I feel myself losing you.

You gradually slip into a heavy oblivion, and when your silence stuns me, I forget to breathe. I then take big gulps of air, with braided, coloured, ragged hopes, to prepare for the next dive.

In the water I open my eyes wide and see the waves lapping over me, pure blue-green, raw and wild like your eyes, unintelligible. And I remember how many times I tried to break through their gates, to unravel their mystery, to interpret their call to the abyss.

And as I dive I feel my pulse calming, the emptiness in my chest filling and finally I no longer think about what hurts. I live in the moment, surrounded by the waters that ironically squeeze me into the corset of freedom.

I remain lost, between the shore and the open sea, floating on a pink feather, with an outstretched hand that you can't see, with a muffled cry on my lips that you haven't heard, carrying the chest of memories that pulls me to the depths.

Each day I die a little more I seek you and hope to find you, more than for a second, more than in a dream, to be closer to you than shadow, warmer than breath, stronger than will.

I breathe shakily and sit still, not to frighten the silence away. Another day has passed.

Loves me, loves me not

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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!

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.

Text din obligatie / A text because I have to

Mi-am luat un angajament fata de mine, in primul rand (incerc sa ma catar iar pe prima pozitie in clasamentul prioritatilor mele, e cam greu, dupa tot praful care s-a asternut in anii astia) sa scriu cate ceva in fiecare zi. Terapie, sa-i zicem, sau nevoie primordiana de a ma simti, intr-un fel, utila.

Azi n-am ce scrie, iar versurile pe care am zis ca o sa le citez sunt mult prea transparente pentru ce as avea de zis, asadar o sa imi rod gandurile in liniste si o sa astept sa se potoleasca si sa-mi dea pace, sau, daca nu, macar sa se aseze regulamentar intr-o ordine mai transparenta, pe care sa o pot analiza si transpune in practica.

Lumea se invarte fara mine. Ei, nu ca nu stiam, dar era placut sentimentul ala ca as fi, macar pentru unii, centrul universului. Ei bine, nu-s, si, in caz ca isi mai face cineva iluzii de acest gen, trag un semnal de trezire: niciunul nu suntem centrul niciunui univers! Si nici cei pe care ii alegem ca centru al universului nostru nu sunt deloc asa, fie ca nu-si doresc, fie ca dispar, fie ca se schimba. Ori, un centru ar trebui sa fie unic si stabil.

A dat soarele, probabil ca natura incepe usor sa isi iasa din amorteala. A trebuit sa se faca dupa-amiaza sa-l observ. O sa ma rup de tot ceea ce nu ma tine captiva si sa ma fortez sa admir privelistea, sa traiesc momentul, sa tac si sa uit.

Revin maine, cu aceleasi ineptii, scrise intr-o alta forma, mai mult sau mai putin patetica.

***

I made a commitment to myself, first of all (I'm trying to climb back to the top of my priority list, it's a bit hard, after all the dust that has settled over the years) to write something every day. Therapy, let's call it, or a primal need to feel somehow useful.

Today I have nothing to write, and the lines I said I'd quote are far too transparent for what I'd have to say, so I'll gnaw on my thoughts in silence and wait for them to subside and give me peace, or, if not, at least to settle into a more transparent order that I can analyze and put into practice.

The world is spinning without me. Well, not that I didn't know it, but it was nice that feeling that I was, at least for some, the center of the universe. Well, I'm not, and in case anyone else is under such illusions, I'm sounding a wake-up call: none of us are the centre of any universe! Nor are those we choose as the centre of our universe at all, either unwilling, disappearing or changing. Or, a centre should be unique and stable.

The sun rises, nature is probably slowly starting to break out of its numbness. I had to make it afternoon to notice it. I'm going to break away from everything that doesn't hold me captive and force myself to admire the view, live in the moment, shut up and forget.

I'll be back tomorrow, with the same nonsense, written in a different, more or less pathetic form.

Criza...de nervi! / Nervous breakdown

Am luat-o cu totii razna cu criza asta! 

Sunt 5 luni de cand aud acelasi refren: criza, criza, criza... Criza in presa, criza in companii, criza de inspiratie, criza de subiecte, criza de oameni, sau nu, ca aici e subiect discutabil, s-ar putea sa fie prea multi, asa se dau mari companiile care fac disponibilizari, de "crizati" ce sunt.

Nu stiu altii cum sunt, dar mie mi s-a luat definitiv de criza asta. Mi-e dor de vremile de alta data, cand interviurile in presa nu contineau invariabil raspunsuri la intrebarile "Veti face disponibilizari?" sau "Ati modificat estimarile privind evolutia companiei, in contextul crizei?".

Un subiect de presa are de regula o durata de viata limitata, insa de criza asta nu s-a mai saturat nimeni? Chiar si o veste buna e imbracata in haine de doliu, ca sa fie in trend...

Suntem pe marginea unei crize de nervi, oameni buni. O luam cu capul, unul cate unul. Incepem sa ne pierdem mintile, si pentru noi, astia care am apucat sa ne dam cu capul de criza asta, sau de hiperbolizarea ei, cuvantul CRIZA nu va mai fi niciodata la fel. 

N-ati vrea sa fim ai optimisti, sa ne axam putin pe ce merge bine, in ciuda crizei, babaul mare si urat care ne-a zapacit pe toti? 

Asta-s eu, mai optimista si mai increzatoare de fel. Poate se ia si la altii...

***

We've all gone crazy with this crisis! 

I've been hearing the same refrain for 5 months: crisis, crisis, crisis... Crisis in the press, crisis in companies, crisis of inspiration, crisis of subjects, crisis of people, or not, as this is a debatable subject, there may be too many, so companies are showing off by making redundancies, becausenwe are all in "crisis".

I don't know about others, but I am definitely fed up with this crisis. I miss the old days, when interviews in the press invariably didn't contain answers to the question "Will you be making redundancies?" or "Have you changed your estimates of the company's performance in the context of the crisis?".

A press story usually has a limited shelf life, but hasn't anyone had enough of the crisis? Even good news is dressed in mourning clothes, to keep it on trend...

We're on the verge of a nervous breakdown, people. We're taking it one head at a time. We're starting to lose our minds, and for those of us who've got our heads around this crisis, or the hyperbolization of it, the word CRISIS will never be the same. 

Wouldn't you like us to be the optimists, to focus a little on what's going well, despite the crisis, the big ugly bugger that has zapped us all? 

That's me, more optimistic and hopeful that way. Maybe it'll rub off on others...