{"id":13884,"date":"2013-07-10T04:52:47","date_gmt":"2013-07-10T04:52:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/?p=13884"},"modified":"2013-07-10T04:54:46","modified_gmt":"2013-07-10T04:54:46","slug":"teo-cabel-templu-ruinat-de-tatiana-dabija","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/2013\/07\/10\/teo-cabel-templu-ruinat-de-tatiana-dabija\/","title":{"rendered":"Teo Cabel: “Templu ruinat” de Tatiana Dabija"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00cen lirica poetei din Chi\u0219in\u0103u s-a prins un altoi din copacul viguros al poeziei lui L. Blaga. Mai este unul, p\u0103unescian, (Recviem \u0219i Monolog Imaginar) dar nu mi s-a p\u0103rut a\u0219a bine prins \u00een fondul poetic, ci doar \u00een forma poeziei. Nuan\u021ba meditativ\u0103 reu\u0219e\u0219te de cele mai multe ori s\u0103 ocoleasc\u0103 filosoficul \u0219i s\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een voalul… liricului.<\/div>\n
Cotidianul n\u0103v\u0103le\u0219te \u00een lumea autoarei, dar aceasta nu capituleaz\u0103. Sub presiunea acestuia \u00eei despic\u0103 bra\u021bul dominator \u00een\u00a0 altele\u00a0 mai pu\u021bin dure, mai docile, mai sensibile. Undeva \u00een fundal se aude ca o cascad\u0103 inima \u00eenconjurat\u0103 de un curcubeu de sentimente \u0219i contraste.<\/div>\n
Templu are o salb\u0103 de \u00eenc\u0103peri, fiecare cu farmecul s\u0103u. La lumini de Sc\u00e2nteie,<\/em><\/div>\n
Absurdit\u0103\u021bi <\/em>\u00a0se desprind \u00een Cercul \u00eenchis de Cuvinte<\/em> pe Valea De\u0219ertului<\/em>.<\/div>\n
Raza<\/em> se love\u0219te ca o pas\u0103re prins\u0103 \u00eentre oglinzi de Z\u0103p\u0103cire<\/em>, c\u00e2nd Iarna<\/em> \u00eentreb\u0103rilor<\/em> nu \u00eenghea\u021b\u0103 V\u00e2ntul clar al umbrei<\/em>.<\/div>\n
Aripi fr\u00e2nte<\/em> , da, pe A\u0219tept\u0103ri ruginite<\/em>; un Destin<\/em> demolat este revitalizat\u00a0 de un Vals<\/em> \u00een Prim\u0103var\u0103<\/em>. Muguri usca\u021bi<\/em>? Bine\u00een\u021beles, Dezacord constr\u00e2ns<\/em>. Gustul de gutui<\/em>, cu puf am\u0103rui este un voal pentru dragoste. \u021aii minte<\/em>!?\u00a0 O, c\u00e2te min\u021bi au \u00eencercat s\u0103 spun\u0103<\/em>…dar, ca eclesiastul, Iluzii<\/em>.<\/div>\n
Timpul este o experien\u021b\u0103 ce se \u00eembog\u0103\u021be\u0219te \u00een diversitatea tr\u0103irilor, a ineditului traseu al vie\u021bii. Dar clipa nu se poate m\u0103sura\/ At\u00e2ta timp c\u00e2t se rote\u0219te sfera\/… Secundele de-a dreptul plutitoare<\/em> (Sc\u00e2nteie), F\u00e2nt\u00e2ni s\u0103pate-n pagini de istorii\/(…)\/ Ne fur\u0103 timpul \u00een care suntem provizorii<\/em>.(Biblioteca din Alexandria), Eternul se z\u0103re\u0219te undeva, tulbure\/ Ca un fluture blocat \u00een plasa unei iluzii; Se coace lumea \u00een fraze fumurii\/(…)\/ Bolnav cuv\u00e2ntul \u00ee\u0219i consum\u0103 sensul,\/ \u00een c\u0103ptu\u0219eala sa din p\u0103p\u0103dii<\/em>. (Valea De\u0219ertului), Eu caut \u00een universu-mi prea mic -\/ o lume \u00eentreag\u0103<\/em>…(Frunza) sau Toate trec \u0219i vin, firescul piere, \/Peste s\u0103lcii cad miresme-ad\u00e2nci,\/ Parc\u0103 timpul trece \u00een t\u0103cere\/ \u0218i cuvintele nu spun nimic<\/em>…(R\u0103t\u0103ciri), apoteotic eternul \u00eensu\u0219i pare\/ lut din corpul meu<\/em>,\/(V\u00e2ntul clar al umbrei). Nuan\u021be ca: \u201eTrece s\u0103geata prin zile senine\/(…) \u0218i prin cenu\u0219a de ani adunat\u0103<\/em>.(Gustul de gutui).<\/div>\n
Pe acest bulevard, timpul, iubirea, ca un buchet multicolor, cu arome diferite;\u00a0\u00a0 numai inima este vasul comun care \u00eel cuprinde:\u201efrunza tremur\u0103-ncet ca o strun\u0103\/ l\u00e2ng\u0103 vioara despicat\u0103-n buc\u0103\u021bi,\/(…)\/l\u00e2ng\u0103 u\u0219a asasinat\u0103 de mii de triste\u021bi…<\/em>\u201d(Desperare). Efemerul o face pe autoare prudent\u0103. Sare \u00een golul senza\u021biei, dar cu o coard\u0103 de bungee jumping. Adev\u0103rul se surprinde uit\u00e2ndu-se \u00een oglind\u0103 \u0219i se \u00eentreab\u0103 dac\u0103 este el: Dau muzica tare\/ timpanele nu rezist\u0103.\/ Ard vise ca frunze de brad… G\u00e2ndurile le arunc \u00een foc -\/ Vreau s\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een urma mea\/ Singur\u0103tatea nud\u0103\/ Pe sticla ud\u0103 de ploi…Din cer cad frunze de toamn\u0103\/ \u0218i lacrimi r\u0103sun\u0103 prin muzici vibr\u00e2nd\/ Iubesc…\/ T\u0103cerile mele s\u0103 ard\u0103:\/ \u00cen g\u00e2nduri, \u00een vise, \u00een amintiri\/ \u00cen frunza ce \u0219tie s\u0103 cad\u0103.<\/em> (Absurdit\u0103\u021bi).<\/div>\n
\u00cen via\u021ba de zi cu zi, r\u0103bdarea este o virtute a muceniciei: \u201eToleran\u021ba cu\u021bitu-\u0219i \u00eenfige \u00een os\/ \u0218i nici o cale de fug\u0103 nu scap\u0103.\/C\u00e2nd inuman frica-\u0219i sap\u0103 tran\u0219ee,\/ \u00cen care nici umbra nu poate s\u0103-ncap\u0103\u201d<\/em> (Haos Impus).<\/div>\n
Oglinda e\u0219ecului temporar:\u201e aripile mele\/ la por\u021bi \u00eempietrite<\/em>…\u201d sau \u201e\u0218i p\u0103m\u00e2ntul gata-i s\u0103 surpe\/\u00cenghi\u021bindu-m\u0103 cu tot cu cer.\u201d, \u201eNe-mboln\u0103vim de triste\u021bi\u201d ,dar \u201e(…)Dumnezeu ne \u021bine de m\u00e2n\u0103<\/em>\u201d(…\u0218i Dumnezeu).<\/div>\n
\u00cen\u021belepciunea popular\u0103 transmis\u0103 de bunici \u0219i p\u0103rin\u021bi \u00eencol\u021be\u0219te \u00een poezie:\u201e C\u00e2nd e\u0219ti sup\u0103rat de ceva\/Spal\u0103-\u021bi fa\u021ba cu ap\u0103 curat\u0103\/Ca s\u0103 nu vad\u0103 lumea toat\u0103\/ C\u0103 dorul \u00ee\u021bi r\u0103ne\u0219te inima<\/em>\u201d(Imitare).<\/div>\n
\u00cen Raza, dorul se stinge \u00een lacrimi\u201eSimt \u00een r\u0103ceala-\u021bi cald\u0103\/pic\u0103tura de lumin\u0103 \u0219i o s\u0103rut…\/(…) C\u00e2nd inima bate ca un cer\u0219etor la u\u0219\u0103<\/em>\u201d.<\/div>\n
Triste\u021bile, dezam\u0103girile, ne\u00eemplinirile trag sufletul \u00een jos, dar coarda speran\u021bei c\u00e2nd toate sunt \u00eentinse la maxim, \u00een gol, \u00eel aduc \u00eenapoi: \u0218i i-auzi opri\u021bi de zidul sor\u021bii,\/ Cum deschid ferestrele la soare,\/ Dar tr\u0103iesc, sper\u00e2nd \u00eenc\u0103 s\u0103 zboare,\/ Ca Icar, cu aripile fr\u00e2nte.<\/em>\u201d( Aripi Fr\u00e2nte), \u201eLung m\u0103 poart\u0103 flac\u0103ra prin scrum<\/em>\u201d (Cetini)<\/div>\n
\u201eAm s\u0103 fug cu tine \u00een amintirea ce a r\u0103mas<\/em>\u201d(Inopinat). Prezentul este dezam\u0103gire, dar se p\u0103streaz\u0103 ceva,unde mai este energie pentru speran\u021b\u0103.<\/div>\n
Muguri usca\u021bi, este o contradic\u021bie aparent\u0103: mugurul este capul de pod al tinere\u021bii, pe c\u00e2nd usc\u0103ciunea, d\u0103 sentimentul de ariditate. \u201eSingur\u0103tatea \u00ee\u0219i are mugurii usca\u021bi<\/em>\u201d. Dup\u0103 dezam\u0103gire, speran\u021ba este propulsoare spre o clip\u0103 sau un m\u00e2ine altfel f\u0103r\u0103 \u201eotrav\u0103 \u00een cuvinte<\/em>\u201d (Muguri Usca\u021bi).<\/div>\n
\u201eTe iubesc ultima zi din suta de ani ce vine<\/em>\u201d, o ironie cu iz de Grigore Vieru.<\/div>\n
\u201e(…) destinul ne \u00eenva\u021b\u0103-n\u00a0 grab\u0103\/ Regula jocului, inventat\u0103 de sine<\/em>\u201d. \u201ePrivindu-m\u0103 \u00een oglinda spart\u0103 de ani.\/(…) libertatea st\u0103 la u\u0219a mea b\u0103tr\u00e2n\u0103\/ Un vagabond \u00een dezacord cu veacul.<\/em>\u201d(Dezacord Constr\u00e2ns).<\/div>\n
\u201eMi-e dor…\/ at\u00e2t de mult \u00eenc\u00e2t\/ m\u0103 tem c\u0103 nu exi\u0219ti<\/em>\u201d(O, c\u00e2te min\u021bi au \u00eencercat s\u0103 spun\u0103)<\/div>\n
Poezia Tatianei Dabija \u00ee\u0219i descompune aripile \u00een zbor, de \u00een\u0103l\u021bare, \u0219i tot \u00een zbor \u0219i le reg\u0103se\u0219te. Sensibilitatea valseaz\u0103 cu ra\u021biunea. \u00cen lupta pentru un compromis \u00eentre suflet \u0219i minte, ritmul este o constant\u0103 ce le une\u0219te \u0219i le fac s\u0103 lumineze \u00een Templu ruinat.<\/em><\/div>\n

Teo Cabel<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sursa: Teo Cabel<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00cen lirica poetei din Chi\u0219in\u0103u s-a prins un altoi din copacul viguros al poeziei lui L. Blaga. Mai este unul, [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13884","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articole","category-linkuri-externe"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13884","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13884"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13884\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13887,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13884\/revisions\/13887"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13884"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13884"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13884"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}