Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Two and two and two more



  1. Hi, Cris,
    Winter is very dense in this post. But right in the middle, there is some curious empty space, an access door to a different reality, another winter, perhaps! Light pours in like some shapeless new liquid so subversively that it makes you dream of another season, quieter, more reassuring. (w)interferences, (w)interpretations, (w)interstices...

  2. Cuckoos
    Deep in a forest where it rains
    cuckoos cry.

    Beyond pale darkness
    their echoes respond.

    Elegant-looking tips of the trees
    are hearing the silent fog that is coming down,
    that fog turning into drops of water on twigs
    and softly dripping down.

    On the path that continues into the fog
    I stop walking and listen
    to voices of lonely cuckoos.

    Droplets of water make a separating curtain,
    and from an eternal end is heard
    that monotonous repetition.

    I look back at the lengthy time
    of my short life,
    estrangements of affection and
    a period of many betrayals.

    Beloved persons who have departed too,
    scattered-away friends too,
    all of them have gone inside this fog
    and perhaps exist somewhere in the end of the fog.

    Now already there is no way to search.
    From end to end
    the enveloping fog thickens and thickens.
    All the loneliness for what cannot be regained
    is swept along very quickly.

    Here and there in the ocean of fog
    like spirit and spirit that call to each other
    cuckoos are crying,
    cuckoos are crying.

    Mitsuharu Kaneko


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Starea ta naturala (perfecţiunea) nu este nici entuziasmul, nici descurajarea. Starea ta naturală este liniştea. * Iubirea musei nu e pasională, e totală. Musa cunoaşte ceva asemănător adoraţiei, dar mai adânc, mai liniştit. Vă scriu din altă lume... * (Gellu Naum: Calea Şearpelui)

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