Silvia Tuvene. Muza

to see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower,
hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and eternity in an hour.

descopar noi autori, noi universuri pasionante. acum consult jack goody: l’islame en europe, gilles lipovetsky: el era del vacio, jacques derrida: writing and difference.

oricum din ceea ce observ primeaza traducerile in franceza ale autorilor anglo-saxoni si traducerile in engleza ale autorilor francezi. franceza are intaietate de departe, majoritatea cursurilor sunt in franceza, in engleza mult prea putin (spre chinul meu acut de a lua notite).

Şi iarăşi aştepţi, aştepţi ce pare menit
viaţa să ţi-o mărească la nesfîrşit.
Aştepţi ce de altă tărie ţine,
ce-i unic, puternic din cale-afară,
trezirea pietrelor,
adîncimi întoarse spre tine.

În culoare crepusculară
pe etajere apun
volumele-n aur şi brun.
La ţări te gîndeşti, ce-ai străbătut,
la chipul şi la veşmîntul
unor femei pe care iar le-ai pierdut.

Şi ştii dintr-o dată: aceasta a fost.
Şi te ridici şi-n faţă vezi spaima,
figura şi taina
unor ani ce-au trecut.

I spotted her across a crowded room , 15 or maybe 20 years ago. She stood as if frozen in grace and time, poised in a shaft of light that seemed calculated to flatter her lustrous skin and full, moist lips. She had a regal air and great serenity, even as people circled her and stared frankly, women as well as men. Her beauty stunned me like a mallet to the head. more

pentru ca sunt din nou la scoala citesc literatura de specialitate: europe and human rights. nu m-am putut abtine si am luat de la biblioteca malcom bradbury: eating people is wrong

They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover:
When comes the season of decay, they both decide
Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride;
Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like them, shudder.

Like partisans of carnal dalliance and science,
They search for silence and the shadowings of dread;
Hell well might harness them as horses for the dead,
If it could bend their native proudness in compliance.

In reverie they emulate the noble mood
Of giant sphinxes stretched in depths of solitude
Who seem to slumber in a never-ending dream;

Within their fertile loins a sparkling magic lies;
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam,
Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.

in tarragona sunt vestigii romane. nu stiu de ce mi-am adus aminte de ovidiu si de ars amatoria. vorbeam cu cineva drag ca ar trebui sa imi reiau articole legate de istoria iubirii. cred ca e un lucru pe l-am amanat prea multa vreme. pana una alta imi dau seama ca pana si in traducere ovidiu este emotionant:

Sonnet LXXXI

And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

a disparut coltul de ceai de la carturesti edgar quinet. nu cu totul, dar nu ma mai intampina de cum intram in librarie. este pe culoarul din stanga, la fel ca un raft de carti. m-am aprovizionat cu carti, asa ca de plecare. mi-am luat patrick suskind despre iubire si moarte si o mai veche ravnita leonard cohen frumosii invinsi

Are o revelatie: fata asta straina simte ceva special pentru el – ii este devotata. Cine nu si-ar dori asa ceva, fie el barbat sau fie ea femeie? Nu e firesc sa simti ca esti iubit? Accepti asta ca pe o binecuvantare.