Din lana haosului, cea mai frumoasa femeie cu ochi negri
Un fir nesfarsit toarce.
Trecutul
NU SE MAI INTOARCE.
Valatucul de lana, probabilistic, se stie,
Nu are sfarsit si nu are inceput.
Viitorul nu poate fi CUNOSCUT.
Iti scriu aceste randuri dintre degetul mare
Si indexul acestei femei, intre care esti si tu captiv.
In punctul in care lana devine fir, gandul scris si activul pasiv.
Nu incerc sa-ti servesc o savanta prelegere…
Retine ca doar in acest punct special
Ai mereu o alegere.
Pictura de Vesna Vera (http://www.intarttiles.com/veshavera.htm)
The Time
From the wool of the chaos, this most beautiful woman… and her eyes are black…
Spins an endless thread.
The past
NEVER COMES BACK.
The wool cluster has no beginning, no end,
And is probabilistic (as shown).
The future cannot be KNOWN.
I’m writing for you these lines from between the thumb
And the index of this woman, where you too are captive.
From the spot where the wool becomes thread, the thought – writing, and the active – passive.
This is not an academic discourse that I’m trying to voice…
Just remember that in only this particular spot
You have always a choice.
Stefan Maier,
August 29, 2004
Trecutul nu se mai intoare, Viitorul nu poate fi cunoscut…
Prezentul, insa, este … (in) captivitate…
Cum poate fi caracterizata o „alegere” facuta in… captivitate?….
Un poem deosebit. Tandrete, gingasie, nesiguranta, dar in acelasi timp… SPERANTA….
e un poem bun care merita sa fie intr-o revista literara!
levana