i don't have a name for it

all that's now behind goes right ahead

a new purpose stole my momory

R

and it's not mine last line at all

Noaptea (II)

Ma sperii... suspin,
Atat de plina si atat de goala,
Atat de clara, si atat de neagra, murdara,
Atat de trista, si-atat de flacara vie.
Atat de deschisa si-atat de neagra-pustie.

Noaptea (I)

Noaptea are un ecou de tacere,

Si un murmur de ispite.

Neagra e, inganduata,

Si e goala, plin'd ea. 

and you won't miss nothing but the same old song

one of the three

The wind is strong and the weather is not so cold.

The wind is strong and  the weather is not so cold. It all reminds me of lost memories . Of summer days. I’m going there again. I can feel the same air , but even though I can feel it,…I know I won’t feel the same old song and mood. Something’s lost, or it’s me that I want the same things .

I can feel the wind as being me and as me being it.  I’m not all lost. I’m just lost in old times.
Every summer  is like an ingido. The waiting for.  And the results are always tears for not being what I thought  was promised for me. Something must change but I’m in too deep in lost memories to know what first step is right. And I’m waiting for this another summer which is at the door and I wonder still. And I will feel it all with too much intensity . and on repeat.  What should I change? Me? Or … But how can I stop wishing for things that are so deeply parts of me?

the last day is sometimes the first

Si-as vrea

Si-as vrea sa fiu pierduta-n vant,
C-o solitudine si c-un semn de-ntrebare,
C-o mana sub cap si cu privirea-n departare.

Mana-mi e pe-a cartii mare,

Si-mi simt vena zvacniind,

Ca si cum, prin poezie

Trec alaturea si eu 

Si prin ruga si-ntrebare,

Chipul tau privesc mereu.

                   ( lui Eminescu ) 

Sa te scufunzi in vina,de stancile ei sa te lovesti,
mai are-un rost, vreun sens,
cand tu, in toate amintirile,
intr-un final nu te mai regasesti?

Scriu versuri care trimit spre departe.

Acest cuvant indepartat e atat de aproape

Si eu fauresc planuri demult ruginite,

Temelia bazandu-mi-se pe vise neintregite.

Cu varful nasului ating perdeaua.
In linistea serii si ploaia e tacuta.
Totul e redus la tacere,
si zbuciumul meu, si freamatul meu
si glasul inimii, pentru o clipa.

Sunt pierduta intr-un trecut ce poate nici n-a existat

 Din glasul tau si din privirea ta, am stiut ca n-ai sa vii. Mi-am reprimat lacrimile inca din primele clipe departe de tine, cu scurte izbucniri. Si acum, cand la final tu nici n-ai spus ca n-ai sa vii, lacrimile sa le las sa o ia razna, nu pot, e prea tarziu.
Stiiam ca n-ai sa vii, dar in ultima seara am intrezarit o scanteie de zambet si un gand de de venire si am crezut si eu in el. Tu n-ai venit, insa el nu s-a dus.
 Si inc-as mai vrea sa-ti alunece palmele pe umerii mei.