{"id":2415,"date":"2012-03-03T01:15:00","date_gmt":"2012-03-03T01:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/?p=2415"},"modified":"2012-03-20T16:43:58","modified_gmt":"2012-03-20T16:43:58","slug":"lansare-carte-pe-urmele-lui-zenon-on-zeno%e2%80%99s-footsteps","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/2012\/03\/03\/lansare-carte-pe-urmele-lui-zenon-on-zeno%e2%80%99s-footsteps\/","title":{"rendered":"Lansare carte : PE URMELE LUI ZENON \/ On Zeno\u2019s footsteps"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

MARIANA GURZA<\/strong>
\n*<\/strong>
\nPE URMELE LUI ZENON<\/strong>, Editura Timpolis, 2012<\/strong>, Timi\u015foara<\/strong>
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

Traducere : Dr.\u00a0 George ANCA<\/strong><\/p>\n

*<\/strong><\/p>\n

On Zeno\u2019s footsteps<\/strong><\/p>\n

Translation by George Anca<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

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

Coperta: Eric Bi\u00a0 Chen<\/strong><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

To my children,<\/strong><\/em>
\nIoana-Valentina and Vlad-Gabriel<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Foreword The title of anthology suggests that it is question of recreation of an ancient unconventional Greek style which encapsulates us into the myth of Zeno from Eleea (490 \u2013 430 BC) and in original, subtle, profound and old fashioned manner, the author proposes to our delight a collection of lyrical feelings and transmutations. This collection has thirty five chosen poems. Brilliantly crafted, poems of Mariana Gurza are perceptive to natural landscape and fundamental questions of life and death. This volume offers Romanian original text and its homologue in English on opposite pages. Translation of George Anca surprises with hawk eye the splendor of original, transmits with mastery poetical beauty and used rhythm, as well as complexity of language depth of author Mariana Gurza. A profound love poetry… sensual, musical and delicate.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ben Todica<\/strong><\/p>\n

Australia<\/strong><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Translator’s Note<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201eShe wants to detonate the selfishness around\u201d (Adrian Dinu Rachieru), \u201esilence will not restrain her soul\u201d (Eleonora Schipor), \u201elyrics become her universe and salvation\u201d (Nina Ceranu). Not excepting romantic erotic statements, the poems of Marianei Gurza (with roots in Bucovina, born in Banat, mother of children), have almost always lengyh of Lord’s Prayer. Translator listened, concomitantly, also songs by Frank Sinatra, choosing only few quasi-mystical recalls written over the years and published in volumes: Paradox sentimental \/ Sentimental Paradox, Ed. Augusta, 1998; G\u00e2nduri nocturne \/ Night thoughts, Ed. Augusta, 1999; Nevoia de a sfida tacerea \/ Need to defy silence, Ed. Augusta, 2000, Lumini \u015fi umbre \/ Lights and shadows, Ed.Augusta, 2001; Lacrima iubirii \/ Tears of love, Ed. Artpress, 2003, Ultimul strig\u0103t \/ Last cry, Eubeea, 2006. <\/strong><\/p>\n

George Anca<\/strong><\/p>\n

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

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 I LOOK TO THE SKY<\/strong><\/p>\n

Born again,<\/strong>
\nHere I am!<\/strong>
\nI went through an ugly dream forks.<\/strong>
\nUnknown by anyone,<\/strong>
\nI encircled in my mute grief.<\/strong>
\nYet now, o Lord, I am delighted<\/strong>
\nwith your gift of new life,<\/strong>
\nfor laughing, weeping,<\/strong>
\nfighting, living,<\/strong>
\nlike rocks in their immobility.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 THE HEAVEN WEEPS IN MY HEART<\/strong><\/p>\n

I thought that disguising myself<\/strong>
\nas light,<\/strong>
\nas despair,<\/strong>
\nI would lull to sleep your imagination.<\/strong>
\nI succeeded<\/strong>
\nto glimmer my angel<\/strong>
\nlost from me,<\/strong>
\nsearching for me<\/strong>
\nin my gesture<\/strong>
\nof humility.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 TELL ME WHO I AM<\/strong><\/p>\n

I thought you know<\/strong>
\nwho I am.<\/strong>
\nI thought I was<\/strong>
\nequally<\/strong>
\nshadow and being.<\/strong>
\nTil I realized<\/strong>
\nthat in time mirror<\/strong>
\nI was not more than<\/strong>
\na cry,<\/strong>
\na peal of laughter,<\/strong>
\na white dress,<\/strong>
\na candle flame,<\/strong>
\na red egg,<\/strong>
\na piece of wafer,<\/strong>
\nan eye of light.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 FLIGHT AMIDST CLOUDS<\/strong><\/p>\n

It came as if I was a bird in flight.<\/strong>
\nWhich one in the God\u2019s<\/strong>
\ncounting?<\/strong>
\nWhich one returned by wind?<\/strong>
\nI should be<\/strong>
\nrecognized<\/strong>
\nafter my wild prattle,<\/strong>
\nafter nests hidden<\/strong>
\nin hourglass<\/strong>
\nof the time tax collector.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I WEEP IN THE TRESHOLD OF NIGHT<\/strong>
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 (To my daughter Ioana)<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the garden of my soul<\/strong>
\na singing bird made her nest.<\/strong>
\nIt has something of prayer,<\/strong>
\nof call,<\/strong>
\nin her dialogue<\/strong>
\nwith jasmine,<\/strong>
\nwith wind,<\/strong>
\nwith thought…<\/strong>
\nShe laid her blue egg<\/strong>
\nin the false golden orbit,<\/strong>
\nand her song cleared<\/strong>
\nlike my sight<\/strong>
\nafter the first rain of tears.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ENIGMATIC IS ALL<\/strong><\/p>\n

The words sit strangely<\/strong>
\nbetween life and another world.<\/strong>
\nAbyss? Be it as far as possible!<\/strong>
\nTo read about it in books!<\/strong>
\nNow we are here, in the picture<\/strong>
\nwith white winter,<\/strong>
\ntomorrow we will be in green-green.<\/strong>
\nOf course apricot trees will as well bloom,<\/strong>
\nwill ripen,<\/strong>
\nalso the fields will bear fruit<\/strong>
\nas every year.<\/strong>
\nWe will be here to collect them.<\/strong>
\nEven pains, transient,<\/strong>
\nwill remain alone.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 OBSTINACY<\/strong><\/p>\n

Do not look back,<\/strong>
\nnothing is to be seen.<\/strong>
\nIt\u2019s me,<\/strong>
\na blue shadow<\/strong>
\ngliding slowly<\/strong>
\non already wedded alleys.<\/strong>
\nDo not listen,<\/strong>
\nit is my thought<\/strong>
\nground by a green love.<\/strong>
\nYou will never hear<\/strong>
\nmy whispers<\/strong>
\nmetamorphosed in golden grain.<\/strong>
\nDo not look in my eyes:<\/strong>
\nyou will see only the night blindness.<\/strong>
\nSo… I\u2019ll lose myself in labyrinths,<\/strong>
\npining after your embrace.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 YOU AMAZE ME, FRIEND<\/strong><\/p>\n

with your desire to walk<\/strong>
\non traces of the saints<\/strong>
\nto return toward self.<\/strong>
\nBut you don\u2019t talk to me<\/strong>
\nabout pilgrims splashed<\/strong>
\nwith mud.<\/strong>
\nIn your interior world<\/strong>
\nyou have an answer,<\/strong>
\nas I also have it<\/strong>
\nin gloomy days<\/strong>
\nwhen everything seems<\/strong>
\nto slip out of my hands.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 PICTURE INFINITY<\/strong>
\nYou had ended the book of \u201cwar\u201d<\/strong>
\nthus I printed you in my heart,<\/strong>
\nlike a star<\/strong>
\nunder your thought light<\/strong>
\ngood to cure wound of child<\/strong>
\nthat you remained.<\/strong>
\nTell me what have you seen<\/strong>
\nin other life?<\/strong>
\nDid you succeed to count the stars,<\/strong>
\nto adorn yourself<\/strong>
\nwith presented gem?<\/strong>
\nOr did you kept only image<\/strong>
\nof the infinity?<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 SEARCH FOR SEALF<\/strong>
\nThe memory is mimosa pudica<\/strong>
\ntoday it opens with abnegation,<\/strong>
\ntomorrow is emptied by senses.<\/strong>
\nAt each touching<\/strong>
\nman hauls inside<\/strong>
\nsearching for self<\/strong>
\nin the first trace on clay<\/strong>
\nkept in palm by God.<\/strong>
\nKneeling conceited,<\/strong>
\nat his feet:<\/strong>
\nthe earthling.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 I AM AFRAID FOR YOU, SON<\/strong>
\nBefore being you,<\/strong>
\nson,<\/strong>
\nit was me,<\/strong>
\nit was the luminous<\/strong>
\nlonging singing words,<\/strong>
\nluminously singing in my soul.<\/strong>
\nAnd you came,<\/strong>
\nlike a gallop of green green…<\/strong>
\nTherefore, this spring,<\/strong>
\npin it, my dear, to the lapel<\/strong>
\nand show it to the tomorrow,<\/strong>
\nwhen those<\/strong>
\nwith traveled horses<\/strong>
\nwill come to the halt<\/strong>
\nof men.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 GREEN TIMES<\/strong>
\nOne evening<\/strong>
\nmother forgot<\/strong>
\noutside the sack with salt<\/strong>
\nthe morning was a salt see.<\/strong>
\nFather left his scythe<\/strong>
\non edge of this sea<\/strong>
\nand it rusted…<\/strong>
\nFirst child born<\/strong>
\nthat evening<\/strong>
\nhad his skin tanned…<\/strong>
\nIt was the first sign<\/strong>
\nthat time for pray arrived,<\/strong>
\nto stop for a while<\/strong>
\nand lay it near us<\/strong>
\nheating it like<\/strong>
\nthe abandoned child.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 TO WEAR IT MYSELF<\/strong>
\nFor second act<\/strong>
\nnow within writing<\/strong>
\nyou intend to become<\/strong>
\nthe grain of sand<\/strong>
\nremained on time sole<\/strong>
\nwhich I carry<\/strong>
\nmyself<\/strong>
\nevery day<\/strong>
\nevery season.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 POEM IN WHITE VERSE<\/strong>
\nSign that poetry lives<\/strong>
\nis the white verse<\/strong>
\nwhich cheated the rhyme.<\/strong>
\nFrom here the poetry starts<\/strong>
\nfrom this photograph<\/strong>
\nI left<\/strong>
\nat your hand<\/strong>
\nwith some oblique lines<\/strong>
\nout of a manuscript<\/strong>
\nfrom which,<\/strong>
\ndear friend,<\/strong>
\nyou torn a page,<\/strong>
\nyou burnt it in a cigarette,<\/strong>
\nbefore getting cured<\/strong>
\nof me.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 LONGING<\/strong>
\nToward His world<\/strong>
\nall bridges have been raised.<\/strong>
\nI had to give toll<\/strong>
\nalso to the time,<\/strong>
\nto healing icons,<\/strong>
\nto last horse<\/strong>
\nwhich has broken the bit.<\/strong>
\nHot in my hand,<\/strong>
\nthe last penny<\/strong>
\nremained<\/strong>
\nlike a song on lips<\/strong>
\nwhen one is surprised<\/strong>
\nby perfect likeness<\/strong>
\nwith one from the dream<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 YOUR PAIN HURTS ME<\/strong>
\nTo be not recognized by us,<\/strong>
\ngrandfather\u2019s latter disguise<\/strong>
\nwas into Prince Charming.<\/strong>
\nHe was the same,<\/strong>
\nwith his wonder-horse,<\/strong>
\neternity in front of him,<\/strong>
\nanterior lives backward,<\/strong>
\nother disguises.<\/strong>
\nIn one he was like a saint.<\/strong>
\nGrandmother had crochet for him<\/strong>
\na cap of pearls,<\/strong>
\nin other a bright halo.<\/strong>
\nPerhaps I met him<\/strong>
\ninto a tale,<\/strong>
\nor I saw him<\/strong>
\non some wall with graffiti,<\/strong>
\nand I wanted to be my grandfather.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 HUMILITY<\/strong>
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 (To my son Vlad)<\/strong>
\nI\u2019m like a cloudy leaf<\/strong>
\nFallen to your feet, Jesus.<\/strong>
\nOnly prayers still give me power<\/strong>
\nAfter so much struggle and sorrow.<\/strong>
\nMy beloved child is tried again now<\/strong>
\nAnd I can not stop the start;<\/strong>
\nI made a twin angel out of my tears<\/strong>
\nTo stay with him as stroking.<\/strong>
\nI do not know if saints heard my prayers,<\/strong>
\nBut I know that beyond the clouds<\/strong>
\nthe saint and gentle sight<\/strong>
\nWatches and is among us.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 SHOW<\/strong>
\nWe wind in acrobatic circles,<\/strong>
\nEveryone wants to look more tenacious,<\/strong>
\nWe know neither when to stop,<\/strong>
\nBut we roll spectacularly.<\/strong>
\nPolitics became a poem,<\/strong>
\nRhyme is mostly paired,<\/strong>
\nVerse is full of promises and nostalgia,<\/strong>
\nRhythm is alert and stanza already globalized.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 DAD, I MISS YOU<\/strong>
\nI miss you, dad, so much I miss you,<\/strong>
\nand, God, hard is the split<\/strong>
\nand I didn\u2019t know you\u2019ll die<\/strong>
\nwishing you all the time alive.<\/strong>
\nI do not know if ever erred<\/strong>
\nand hardly want you forgive me<\/strong>
\nwith reconciled heart I\u2019d be<\/strong>
\nthat you rest among the fair.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 WHERE ARE YOU GRANDPA<\/strong>
\nWhere are you grandpa, forgotten among strangers<\/strong>
\nthrown into a corner of ground,<\/strong>
\ndid someone put to you a cross,<\/strong>
\nbeing Romanian,<\/strong>
\nor they have mocked you<\/strong>
\nand made you ash?<\/strong>
\nStand up from the grave and say<\/strong>
\nwhat cloth is a cloth in the alienated country,<\/strong>
\ncry as to be heard by<\/strong>
\nTransylvania, Banat,<\/strong>
\nwhat Bucovina\u2019s old the Kingdom would have got!<\/strong>
\nWhy did they tortured you, poor Romanian,<\/strong>
\nand your soles were beaten,<\/strong>
\nwithout food, without water,<\/strong>
\nwith head downward?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Stand up and tell me<\/strong>
\nwhat did the stranger to you,<\/strong>
\nwhy are we removed again?<\/strong>
\nWhat saints are telling you in the depths,<\/strong>
\nhow Chernovtsi is doing?<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 LONE UNEMPLOYED<\/strong>
\nIt\u2019s cold in house, his body frost,<\/strong>
\nempty of dreams and hopes,<\/strong>
\nlost,<\/strong>
\nan unemployed walks<\/strong>
\nwith frozen tears.<\/strong>
\nIt\u2019s hard to go farther,<\/strong>
\nwhen pocket is missing<\/strong>
\nhe warps again beautiful lies<\/strong>
\nthinking to what will he put on the table<\/strong>
\nof unreasonable children.<\/strong>
\nAnd looking again beseechingly to sky,<\/strong>
\nbegging the mercy the Christian,<\/strong>
\nhe would want a better life, an honest penny,<\/strong>
\nto beg no more in full churches.<\/strong>
\nAgain his grant didn\u2019t arrive,<\/strong><\/p>\n

the age doesn\u2019t permit him to work<\/strong>
\nfor see, Lord,<\/strong>
\nif one isn\u2019t young<\/strong>
\ndo not have any chance left.<\/strong>
\nFrom time to time a passer by<\/strong>
\nas sad as him<\/strong>
\nput in his hand a penny.<\/strong>
\nYou humble unemployed start to cry<\/strong>
\nand run scared to light a candle;<\/strong>
\nfor Lord, how well it\u2019s among saints<\/strong>
\nwhen only them one can say what it hurts.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 THE HOPE<\/strong>
\nI\u2019d go to infinity<\/strong>
\nwith a pagan song of longing,<\/strong>
\nand in trembling tears<\/strong>
\nI\u2019d sow love;<\/strong>
\nI\u2019d hung among stars<\/strong>
\nwith hands of flowers<\/strong>
\nand I\u2019d subdue a world,<\/strong>
\na world full of errors.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 INDIFFERENCE<\/strong>
\nPasser by,<\/strong>
\nlook around you<\/strong>
\nand tell me what you see.<\/strong>
\nHow look lin<\/strong>
\nke the eyes of children,<\/strong>
\nof old people,<\/strong>
\nhow much elegant are mothers,<\/strong>
\nour mothers?<\/strong>
\nWhat you feel seeing so much sadness,<\/strong>
\nwhat you feel when a poor child comes<\/strong>
\nand begs a penny for a roll?<\/strong>
\nI wonder what changed us<\/strong>
\nto become so indifferent<\/strong>
\nto those we see daily<\/strong>
\nshivering and distressed<\/strong>
\nby rapid going of the seasons.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 MANIFESTO FOR LIFE<\/strong>
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 (To my daughter Ioana)<\/strong>
\nLet horses wander on the spread plains<\/strong>
\nFree in the crazy game of other days,<\/strong>
\nWithout burdens and heavy chains<\/strong>
\nTo feel how life is like.<\/strong>
\nLet flowers grow where it is green<\/strong>
\nAnd buds kept dewy up to dawn<\/strong>
\nto bear in the sun of green dreams<\/strong>
\nIn this life full of errors.<\/strong>
\nLet my thought undefiled<\/strong>
\nscorching of love lost<\/strong>
\nLet my soul clean,<\/strong>
\nAnd dreams green…<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 UNCONSCIOUSNESS<\/strong>
\nWho will get limit of Unconsciousness<\/strong>
\nNow that we are at crossroads?<\/strong>
\nWho will answer for many poor<\/strong>
\nstruggling and taking away my dear?<\/strong>
\nWe are too little in the great fight,<\/strong>
\nthat others do with abrupt start.<\/strong>
\nWhat will it happen with this land<\/strong>
\nWhen we are giving all at lend?<\/strong>
\nNothing good left, everything rot?<\/strong>
\nSome desperately sell to unknown;<\/strong>
\nWe stay with a smattering of corn<\/strong>
\ncrying at Stephen the Great\u2019s tomb.<\/strong>
\nDon\u2019t we know land feathers<\/strong>
\ngiven in ages by forefathers?<\/strong>
\nIs for us better<\/strong>
\nwith shakes together?<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 SENTIMENTAL PARADOX<\/strong>
\nMan learns in order to be wise;<\/strong>
\nthe stupid cultivates vegetables of others<\/strong>
\nwithout understanding<\/strong>
\nwhich is the root<\/strong>
\nand by where the sap flows.<\/strong>
\nPoet writes only to be called<\/strong>
\na poor scribe<\/strong>
\nat world\u2019s court.<\/strong>
\nPeople love for they have<\/strong>
\nto love…<\/strong>
\nThere is an unwritten law<\/strong>
\nwhich obliges us to love.<\/strong>
\nBut as love became a relation<\/strong>
\nbetween supply and demand,<\/strong>
\nnobody is sufficiently rich<\/strong>
\nto buy the love…<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 OUR LANGUAGE<\/strong>
\nOur language, like petals of a rose,<\/strong>
\nI found it into a corner, thrown<\/strong>
\nAt a theater wardrobe.<\/strong>
\nI shivered when I saw it;<\/strong>
\nWilted,<\/strong>
\nTrampled<\/strong>
\nBy dirty shoes<\/strong>
\nBut with foreign labels.<\/strong>
\nOur language sings alone<\/strong>
\nAnd suffer<\/strong>
\nHoping vitamins<\/strong>
\nPure Romanian.<\/strong>
\nOur language remains saint<\/strong>
\nBecause<\/strong>
\nUp there, in heaven,<\/strong>
\nSomeone<\/strong>
\nBlessed it<\/strong>
\nSince the creation of the world.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 LONGING MIRROR<\/strong>
\nI stand on a hidden shore,<\/strong>
\nyou stay hidden in heights.<\/strong>
\nBetween us -an ocean<\/strong>
\nwill always broke us up.<\/strong>
\nAlone<\/strong>
\nI search for lost steps trace;<\/strong>
\nClothed in waves<\/strong>
\nI look to infinity searching…<\/strong>
\nHope runs<\/strong>
\non a sunny mast,<\/strong>
\nand the song rests…<\/strong>
\nFrom lyrics I dared<\/strong>
\nto make harp for my thought<\/strong>
\nfrom tears<\/strong>
\nlonging mirror.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ON ZENO\u2019S FOOTSTEPS<\/strong>
\nI caught sadness in hands<\/strong>
\nand clothed it in tears.<\/strong>
\nI welcomed the smile<\/strong>
\nand I toasted wormwood wine<\/strong>
\nin cups of nostalgia.<\/strong>
\nI hung the longing in my locks<\/strong>
\nan gave color to the night,<\/strong>
\nthen<\/strong>
\nI ran…<\/strong>
\nI was afraid.<\/strong>
\nI ran trembling<\/strong>
\ntoward a vagrant candlestick<\/strong>
\njust like Zeno.<\/strong>
\nWe surprised each other<\/strong>
\nwondering in the night<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 MUSIC LOVER<\/strong>
\nA music lover<\/strong>
\nwrites with light strips<\/strong>
\nhis thoughts,<\/strong>
\nsowing quietly<\/strong>
\nfaith buds.<\/strong>
\nWaits a sunrise,<\/strong>
\na sunset…<\/strong>
\nSong around,<\/strong>
\na sad,<\/strong>
\nbitter<\/strong>
\nsong;<\/strong>
\nand music lover waits.<\/strong>
\nWaits to sip<\/strong>
\nlonging<\/strong>
\nfrom carafe of red wine<\/strong>
\nand to purify his face<\/strong>
\ninto ephemeral mirrors.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ONLY WOMAN?<\/strong>
\nMy soul<\/strong>
\ndoesn\u2019t differ at all<\/strong>
\nfrom your soul.<\/strong>
\nMy heart can have<\/strong>
\nviolet blue iridescence,<\/strong>
\notherwise I don\u2019t see<\/strong>
\nwhy my feet bleed<\/strong>
\nwhen you bring huge irises<\/strong>
\nand leave them too far from the day<\/strong>
\nin which love should revive.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I WAS BEAUTIFUL<\/strong>
\nI was beautiful<\/strong>
\nwhen waiting for you.<\/strong>
\nBut it\u2019s been a while<\/strong>
\nsince we two<\/strong>
\nrocked<\/strong>
\non two rainbows<\/strong>
\nafter rain<\/strong>
\nwashed my lips<\/strong>
\nof your kisses.<\/strong>
\nAnd yet my heart,<\/strong>
\nwrapped in your love,<\/strong>
\nhas kept<\/strong>
\nthe sacred seal<\/strong>
\nof your<\/strong>
\nloving touch,<\/strong>
\nthere,<\/strong>
\namong clouds<\/strong>
\ncolors,<\/strong>
\nlightnings<\/strong>
\nwasted by loves.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 SAD BRANCHES<\/strong>
\nA branch beats in my window<\/strong>
\nlike a desolate tear,<\/strong>
\nit doesn\u2019t say anything to me,<\/strong>
\nonly trembles<\/strong>
\nand I see it more and more wilted.<\/strong>
\nI open the window and feel<\/strong>
\nthe drop world coldness;<\/strong>
\nI cry too,<\/strong>
\nI can not shut,<\/strong>
\nbut I feel<\/strong>
\nI have nothing to say.<\/strong>
\nClouds have been nesting at my breast,<\/strong>
\nit\u2019s hard to warm them up,<\/strong>
\nthey are cold,<\/strong>
\nand I feel my master is<\/strong>
\nonly God in heaven.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Translation by George Anca<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ecouri:<\/p>\n

In falfait de pagini, slovele si-au luat ZBORUL spre sufletele cititorilor!<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Cu bucurie, am primit atingerea de aripi angelice!<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

\n<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
Doina<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\"\"<\/a>prof.Dimitrie Spilca<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


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

MARIANA GURZA * PE URMELE LUI ZENON, Editura Timpolis, 2012, Timi\u015foara Traducere : Dr.\u00a0 George ANCA * On Zeno\u2019s footsteps [&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],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2415","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articole"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2415","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=2415"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2415\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2415"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2415"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marianagurza.ro\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2415"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}