Monday, 28 December 2009

CU TRISTETE DESPRE CARTI - WITH SADNESS ABOUT BOOKS


"Eu mi-am imaginat intotdeauna Paradisul sub forma unei biblioteci,alte persoane considera ca ar fi o gradina,altii si-l pot inchipui ca un palat,eu l-am imaginat intotdeauna ca o biblioteca si aici ma aflam eu..."spunea candva Joge Luis Borges.Dar...

Orice carte asezata intr-un raft de biblioteca nu este decat un obiect atata vreme cat nimeni nu o deschide.Fiecare volum prinde viata abia atunci cand este luat in mana si citit,iar soarta actuala a cartilor nu este aceea de a fi vii,ci mai degraba de a ramane in stadiul de obiecte.Un alt loc special in care poposesc cartile este anticariatul.Evident,saracia aduce cartile la anticariat.In primul rand,pensionarii,care trebuie sa traiasca dintr-o pensie foarte mica,isi vand cartile vechi,pastrate de mai multe generatii in familie.E foarte trist sa-i vezi pe acesti oameni cum sunt siliti sa se desparta,cu durere in suflet,de ceea ce reprezinta o parte insemnata a vietii lor.Isi vand trecutul , pentru un viitor incert.

O alta categorie care frecventeaza anticariatele sunt tinerii.Cei mai multi isi vand biblioteca cu totul , pentru ca emigreaza si au nevoie de bani.Sunt mai pragmatici si nu au timp de sentimentalisme,de priviri inapoi.Ce ramane in urma lor?Poate doar spectacolul trist al unui lung razboi al cartilor cu ignoranta , cu indiferenta , cu lipsa de responsabilitate a celor care nu rosesc niciodata de propria ignoranta.

Cati dintre cei care au condus Romania ar putea spune,precum Iorga,"....o,sfintele mele carti....pe care soarta prielnica mi le-a scos inainte,cat va datorez sa sunt om adevarat?"Putini,foarte putini.

Intr-o lume sortita parca abandonarii in haos,in care adevarata criza este cea din suflete,avem nevoie mai mult ca oricand de dascali si de carti.Saracia transforma cartea intr-un simplu obiect.Si e pacat.

ABOUT PAINTINGS


I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.
I can't change the fact that my paintings don't sell. But the time will come when people will recognize that they are worth more than the value of the paints used in the picture.
Paintings have a life of their own that derives from the painter's soul.
Not infrequently, one encounters copies of important people; and, as with paintings, most people prefer the copy to the original.
I paint paintings because I can't get the experience in any other way but there are many more experiences that are equally satisfying to me and equally inept at answering all my questions, but hover in exactitude in describing themselves and defying me to define their logic.
As far as modern writing is concerned, it is rarely rewarding to translate it, although it might be easy. Translation is very much like copying paintings.
I would rather see the portrait of a dog that I know, than all the allegorical paintings they can show me in the world
I'm passionately involved in life: I love its change, its colour, its movement. To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings - it's all a miracle.
That's why people listen to music or look at paintings. To get in touch with that wholeness.
Paintings are like a beer, only beer tastes good and it's hard to stop drinking beer.
One of the best things about paintings is their silence-which prompts reflection and random reverie.

Sunday, 27 December 2009

New Year Flowers (White Flowers)

Our host do rise from bed
White Flowers
Serve us (Challah) braided eggbread
Flowers, white flowers

because mommy bake did not
White Flowers
Widemeshed sieve she did not have
Flowers, white flowers

By the time the sieve she got
White Flowers
The kneading bowl was cracked
Flowers, white flowers

Mom yelled at dad why tis so
White Flowers
Why a crack in our bowl
Flowers, white flowers

By the time the bowl was mended
White Flowers
Out of kilter was the oven
Flowers, white flowers

By the time they righted the oven
White Flowers
The New Year was upon us
Flowers, white flowers

Saturday, 26 December 2009

Friday, 25 December 2009

MESSAGE FROM SANTA CLAUS


If it were in my powers,
I would bring peace and love,
To this world of ours,
But I don't have magic enough,
I can cross the sky,
and pass by the stars,
But I can't seem to stop,
Any of hatred's wars,
I see children on the street,
With no hope left,
in the eyes.
So many homeless people
with no where to sleep.
And my heart cries.
I can't give the things they need,
Oh But God I would try.
I'm only a fantasy,
that once took wings to fly,
Some are deceived,
by the gifts that money can buy,
But those who truly believe,
see the gift with the heart,
not with the eye,
I sometime stop and go to my knees,
and pause,
and I too always pray,
That we will find a end to wars,
and live in peace one day.
For all those who believe in me,
I will continue my cause,
Across the stars,
over the wars,
On Christmas Eve,
For the hearts that still believe,
In Santa Claus
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU , MY DEAR FREINDS !

WHITE CHRISTMAS