{"id":10481,"date":"2020-09-06T02:22:24","date_gmt":"2020-09-05T23:22:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/?p=10481"},"modified":"2020-09-06T02:22:24","modified_gmt":"2020-09-05T23:22:24","slug":"spatii-culturale-nr-70-6","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/?p=10481","title":{"rendered":"Spa\u021bii culturale nr. 70 (6)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Armina Flavia ADAM<\/strong>
\n\"\"

M-OI DUCE<\/strong><\/p>\n

M-oi duce cu frigul, m-oi duce,
\nSfiala mai larg\u0103-i acum,
\nC\u00e2t noaptea e-o pat\u0103 de scrum
\n\u0218i ceru-nflore\u0219te sub cruce.<\/p>\n

M-oi cerne-n lumin\u0103, m-oi cerne,
\nCum viii de cei ce-au plecat,
\n\u0218i toamn\u0103, \u0219i vin, \u0219i p\u0103cat,
\n\u0218i lini\u0219te-ntoars\u0103-ntre perne.<\/p>\n

M-oi pierde pe c\u00e2mpuri, m-oi pierde,
\nOdat\u0103 cu v\u00e2ntul amar,
\nMireasm\u0103 de rug\u0103-n Brumar,
\nPriceasn\u0103 de-a pururea verde.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PUN LUMINA LA-NDOIAL\u0102<\/strong><\/p>\n

Pun lumina la-ndoial\u0103. Toat\u0103-s cruce, toat\u0103-s mir,
\nVocea ei, c\u00e2nd, sf\u00e2\u0219iat\u0103, o \u00eembrac ca pe-un ca\u0219mir.
\nNu-s nimic. Un fum mi-i pasul. Ca de frig fo\u0219nesc
\nduios,
\nCum fon\u0219it-a-n pragul mor\u021bii \u0219i c\u0103ma\u0219a pe Hristos.<\/p>\n

N-am ce-i da. Nici mir, nici aur. Numai g\u00e2ndu-mi
\ntr\u0103d\u0103tor
\nLas\u0103 frica s\u0103-l despice, s\u0103-l \u00eendese \u00een cuptor.
\n\u0218i-a\u0219a ars, \u0219i nou, \u0219i ve\u0219nic, s\u0103 \u021b\u00e2\u0219neasc\u0103 tot mai sus,
\nCum s-a ridicat la ceruri bunul nostru Domn Iisus.<\/p>\n

Pun lumina la-ndoial\u0103, cum am pus-o mai mereu.
\nDoar cuv\u00e2ntul mi-e potrivnic, parc-ar fi un dumnezeu.
\nChiar \u0219i-a\u0219a, \u00een miezu-i moale, m\u0103 arunc f\u0103r\u0103 regret,
\nS\u0103-nfloresc \u0219i zi, \u0219i noapte, cum se cade-unui poet.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

POEMUL \u00ceN CARE CURG<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00centuneric \u00een mine, \u00eentuneric \u00een g\u00e2nd,
\nuneori mi se pare c-aud c\u00e2mpia pl\u00e2ng\u00e2nd<\/p>\n

uneori mi se pare c-aud cum iarba se-nclin\u0103,
\ncum raze cosesc aceast\u0103 lini\u0219te lin\u0103<\/p>\n

uneori mi se pare c\u0103 nu am murit \u00eendeajuns,
\nc\u0103 toamnele toate de inima mea s-au ascuns<\/p>\n

uneori mi se pare c\u0103 nu te \u00eenal\u021b \u00eenmiit,
\nc\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 \u0219i luna s-adoarm\u0103-ntre crengi s-a sfiit<\/p>\n

c\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 \u0219i eu pot c\u0103dea-ntr-un amurg,
\nc\u00e2t \u00eenc\u0103 iubesc, c\u00e2t \u00eenc\u0103 mai curg.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

VA FI BINE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Va fi bine, va fi sear\u0103,
\nVa fi vara mai amar\u0103.
\nCa prin vis, voi fi cosind
\nP\u0103rul lunii aburind.<\/p>\n

Voi fi soare-n tot \u0219i-n toate.
\nNumai Domnul de m-o scoate
\nCa pe cai, la \u021bes\u0103lat,
\nM-oi c\u0103i c\u0103 n-am iertat.<\/p>\n

Tulbur\u00e2ndu-m\u0103 de noapte,
\nVoi fi cer de mir \u0219i lapte.
\nC\u00e2nd \u0219i c\u00e2nd, mi-oi desf\u0103ta
\nFricile \u00een palma ta.<\/p>\n

Voi fi lini\u0219te-nflorit\u0103,
\nVoi fi zorii ce palpit\u0103,
\nRai \u00een aur creionat,
\nPreg\u0103tit de sem\u0103nat.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

POEM CU M\u00c2\u021aI\u0218OR \u00ceNFLORIT<\/strong><\/p>\n

E-aproape sear\u0103, \u00een piept mi se zbate un \u0219arpe \u00eencins,
\ncreanga de m\u00e2\u021bi\u0219or \u00eenflorit pe sub inima mea s-a \u00eentins,<\/p>\n

M\u0103 \u00eentorc a\u0219a cum fiul risipitor se \u00eentoarce,
\nlini\u0219tea de acum e lini\u0219tea ce m\u0103 va toarce,<\/p>\n

Undeva, pe un deal, voi fi un copac n\u0103p\u0103dit de furnici,
\ntropotul lor ne-ncetat \u00eemi va fi c\u00e2ntec \u0219i bici,<\/p>\n

Undeva, pe un deal, voi fi o lun\u0103 sc\u0103pat\u0103-n f\u00e2nt\u00e2n\u0103,
\n\u00eentunericul meu \u2013 v\u0103zduhul culcat \u00eentr-o r\u00e2n\u0103,<\/p>\n

Ce mai zici? \u00cen somn, p\u00e2n\ua78c \u0219i iarba se-albe\u0219te,
\ndormi, iubirea mea, dormi, noaptea \u00een mine-ncol\u021be\u0219te\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

C\u00c2NTEC \u00ceN Z\u0102PAD\u0102<\/strong><\/p>\n

Prime\u0219te, Doamne, umila risip\u0103 de stele \u2013
\nCa o fereastr\u0103 zorii se casc\u0103 sub pleoapele mele,<\/p>\n

Prime\u0219te, P\u0103rinte, pocalul vechi, m\u0103rginit \u2013
\nZ\u0103pezile-n mine de mult au fo\u0219nit,<\/p>\n

Prime\u0219te-m\u0103, Tat\u0103, lumin\u0103-n cuv\u00e2nt \u2013
\nPoemul din palm\u0103 s\u0103-mi fie morm\u00e2nt,<\/p>\n

Poemul acesta s\u0103-mi fie altar
\nC\u00e2nd trece-voi c\u00e2ntec, de-al mor\u021bii hotar!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

P\u00e2ine \u0219i vin<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u0218i ninge-a t\u00e2rziu (cin\ua78c s\u0103 vad\u0103?),
\n\u0218i ninge-a-ntuneric \u00eencet \u2013
\nPrin marea de frig \u0219i z\u0103pad\u0103,
\nMai urc\u0103 la cer un poet.<\/p>\n

Se-nal\u021b\u0103 spre lanuri de miere,
\nSpre raiul pe-o dung\u0103 culcat,
\nS\u0103-nchine o halb\u0103 de bere
\nCu al\u021bii ce-n grab-au plecat.<\/p>\n

De fapt, n-au plecat, numai gloata
\nNu crede c\u0103-s vii pe deplin \u2013
\n\u00cenv\u00e2rte, Preasfinte, iar, roata,
\nPoem f\u0103-i, \u0219i p\u00e2ine, \u0219i vin!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

DUC NOAPTEA LA PIEPT<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lini\u0219te, lini\u0219te, lini\u0219te,
\nCer pr\u0103v\u0103lit peste miri\u0219te.
\nNici fream\u0103t, nici tremur \u0219optit.
\nUn \u00eenger, sub pietre pitit.<\/p>\n

C\u00e2t scutur un ast\u0103zi \u0219i-un m\u00e2ine,
\nSunt ran\u0103, \u0219i cruce, \u0219i p\u00e2ine,
\nLumin\u0103 mi\u0219cat\u0103 pe-ascuns,
\nP\u0103catul ce nu te-a ajuns.<\/p>\n

Duc noaptea la piept \u0219i la frunte.
\nSunt toat\u0103 flori calde, m\u0103runte.
\nSunt rug\u0103, \u0219i c\u00e2ntec, \u0219i spin \u2013
\nE\u0219ti luna sub care m\u0103-nchin.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

C\u00c2NTEC DE CLOPOT<\/strong><\/p>\n

Se-aude un clopot. \u00cen vers, s-a-nserat \u2013
\nO inim\u0103 bate, o alta-a plecat,
\nO m\u00e2n\u0103 mai scrie, o alta s-a dus
\nS\u0103 \u021beas\u0103 poeme, \u00een Rai, cu Iisus.<\/p>\n

Se scurg \u00een lumin\u0103 poe\u021bii, pe r\u00e2nd,
\n\u00cen urma lor, cerul e-un r\u00e2u s\u00e2nger\u00e2nd…
\nR\u0103m\u00e2ne p\u0103m\u00e2ntul amar \u0219i hidos,
\nC\u00e2t ei \u0219ed la mas\u0103 cu Domnul Hristos.<\/p>\n

De ce i-ai vrut, Tat\u0103? De ce i-ai cerut?
\nC\u00e2t gr\u00e2u de neghin\u0103, Preasfinte, -ai cernut?
\nDe ce cum pe-o brazd\u0103 cu maci i-ai cosit?
\nAjung\u0103-\u021ai, P\u0103rinte! Tu n-ai obosit?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u0218I CER, \u0218I P\u0102M\u00c2NT<\/strong><\/p>\n

Eu nu pot ajunge la mine \u2013
\nDoar g\u00e2ndul acesta velin
\nMuste\u0219te a noapte \u0219i-a toamn\u0103,
\nA c\u00e2ntec zidit \u00een pelin,<\/p>\n

Eu nu \u00eemi pot trece de um\u0103r \u2013
\nTu sap\u0103-mi o groap\u0103 \u00een rai,
\nDe-a latul s\u0103-mi creasc\u0103 poeme
\nAprinse ca macii \u00een mai,<\/p>\n

S\u0103 iau foc de ro\u0219ul lor moale
\n\u0218i versul de-al t\u0103u s\u0103-mi ia foc,
\nC\u00e2nd cazi \ua78cn-al meu trup \u00eendoielnic,
\n\u0218i cer, \u0219i p\u0103m\u00e2nt, la un loc,<\/p>\n

S\u0103 facem, pe r\u00e2nd, din Scriptur\u0103,
\n\u0218i pern\u0103, \u0219i vals, \u0219i altar,
\nC\u00e2t Domnul ne salt\u0103-n spinare
\n\u0218i urc\u0103, oft\u00e2nd, pe Calvar.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Silvia Ioana SOFINETI<\/strong><\/p>\n

PREG\u0102TIRI DE C\u0102L\u0102TORIE<\/strong><\/p>\n

ea nu voia s\u0103 se uite \u00een oglind\u0103
\n\u00eei tunsesem pletele albite
\n\u00een\u021belegeam de ce vrea s\u0103 se simt\u0103 preg\u0103tit\u0103
\npentru c\u0103l\u0103torie
\n\u00een\u021belegeam \u0219i resemnarea din ochii ei
\nnu \u00een\u021belegeam, \u00eens\u0103, de ce oglinda \u00eei este du\u0219man.
\n– hai, uit\u0103-te s\u0103 vezi cum \u00ee\u021bi st\u0103
\n\u00eencercam eu, cu inocen\u021ba v\u00e2rstei.
\nea \u00eentorcea capul, ocolind bucata de sticl\u0103
\nspre fotografiile de pe pere\u021bi
\nc\u0103ut\u00e2nd cu privirea imaginea ei t\u00e2n\u0103r\u0103
\nda, acolo nu avea p\u0103rul alb
\nda, acolo era s\u0103n\u0103toas\u0103
\ndar da, \u0219i acolo eram noi l\u00e2ng\u0103 ea.
\nnu pleci singur\u0103, s\u0103 \u0219tii
\nvom merge \u0219i noi c\u00e2te pu\u021bin cu tine
\nun pic din mine, un pic din sora mea
\nun pic din tata, un pic din unchiul
\nvor fi cu tine mereu
\npe drumul f\u0103r\u0103 \u00eentoarcere
\ndin oglind\u0103.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Liana STAMIN<\/strong>
\n\"\"

DISCREPAN\u0162E<\/strong><\/p>\n

diferen\u021ba dintre albul lor
\ngol
\n\u0219i iarna mea
\nscris\u0103-n cuvinte
\nevident\u0103
\nc\u00e2nd \u00eentrece neputin\u021ba
\ne vocala
\n(ce mi\u0219to e z\u00e2mbetul femeii
\nrotund
\nca un ,,a” plin)
\ndin ele
\ntriste\u021bea n-a plecat nicic\u00e2nd
\nsingur\u0103 eu
\ndin iarn\u0103 \u00een iarn\u0103
\nle pl\u00e2ng
\nfericirea neaflat\u0103
\n(ce ne\u0219ans\u0103 s\u0103 nu po\u021bi
\nscrie: \u021b\u00ee\u021b\u0103 cu \u00e2 din a)
\nce frumoase sunt femeile
\n\u021bin\u00e2nd bra\u021bele-n jos!
\n(simple exerci\u021bii \u00een oglind\u0103
\nc\u00e2nd te rujezi pe sub nas)
\ndac\u0103 femeile iernilor
\nvide
\ns-ar preface-n copaci
\nprim\u0103vara
\nle-a\u0219 \u021bine de m\u00e2n\u0103
\ns\u0103-\u0219i nasc\u0103 florile
\nl\u00e2ng\u0103
\npoezia mea<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u015eI TU\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u0219i va veni o alt\u0103 iarn\u0103
\n\u00eentre noi
\nfocul stins,
\nun desen de copil
\namintiri vechi,
\ncenu\u0219\u0103
\n\u0219i sclipiri de ochi negri
\ntoate str\u00e2nse \u00eentr-un col\u021b.
\ndrumul spre cer se parcurge
\n\u00een doi,
\nce minciun\u0103 splendid\u0103!
\nc\u00e2nd albul te \u00eenvinge
\n\u00eenainte de intrarea
\n\u00een anotimp
\n\u0219i m\u00e2inile-\u021bi tremur\u0103 c\u0103ut\u00e2nd printre
\nresturi
\niubire, cuv\u00e2ntul pe care
\nde iarna asta oarb\u0103,
\n\u00eel tac.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

C\u00c2NTEC DE CLOPOT<\/strong><\/p>\n

de obicei pe strada mea, duminica,
\ne \u00eentuneric.
\nb\u0103tr\u00e2nele trec spre biseric\u0103
\nt\u0103cute,
\n\u00een negrul splendid
\nde lacrimi sp\u0103lat,
\nmirosind a curat \u0219i a castane
\nca \u00eentr-un fel de decen\u021b\u0103
\na nerostirii,
\nspre a nu \u00eempieta mersul umbrei
\ndin urm\u0103.
\n\u00een fereastr\u0103 le aduc
\nlumina candelei
\nde doruri aprins\u0103
\n\u0219i-n lini\u0219tea aceea,
\nprivesc cu ochii umezi
\ntrecerea lor de femei
\n\u00een \u0219or\u021buri purt\u00e2nd mere coapte
\n\u00een co\u0219uri cruci peste gr\u00e2u.
\n\u00een\u021beleg din c\u00e2nt\u0103ri
\ndin sunet de clopot
\nvibr\u00e2nd,
\ncum se-nal\u021b\u0103 \u00een lini\u0219te \/ ruga.
\n\u0219i c\u00e2t\u0103 lumin\u0103…
\n\u0219i c\u00e2t\u0103 lumin\u0103 l\u0103sau pe strada mea
\nb\u0103tr\u00e2nele
\nmiruite,
\ncu miros de castane,
\n\u00eentr-o duminic\u0103,
\nde noiembrie.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

NEGRU DESCHIS<\/strong><\/p>\n

strivit\u0103 sunt de amintiri
\n\u0219i-mi vine s\u0103 fug
\nca un cal biciuit
\nhai vino \u0219i spune-mi
\npovestea de sear\u0103
\ndin \u0219oaptele tale
\nlumini se aprind
\npeste-ntunericul rece
\ncurioas\u0103
\nluna coboar\u0103
\nnu vreau s\u0103 o sting
\ne grea a\u0219teptarea
\n\u0219i zac aiur\u00e2nd
\nhai vino!
\n\u0219i spune-mi!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

VINE O VREME<\/strong><\/p>\n

c\u00e2nd g\u00e2ndurile r\u0103t\u0103cesc
\nprin r\u0103nile toamnei
\nvenind de departe
\nn-au taine
\nnici vise
\ndespart mor\u021bii cumin\u021bi
\nde viii cu oasele fr\u00e2nte
\np\u0103s\u0103ri verzi din h\u00e2rtie
\ndau sensurilor chip
\nnoi num\u0103r\u0103m lumi
\nalbe
\n\u00een r\u0103t\u0103ciri de trup
\n\u00eenec\u00e2ndu-ne g\u00e2ndul
\napoi
\npunem toate aceste lucruri
\nla punct<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

VIRGULE ROTUNDE<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00een cercul nostru exclama\u021biile
\nstau pe scaune
\npunctul e singura libertate a
\npove\u0219tii care \u00eencepe a\u0219a:
\nte voi iubi p\u00e2n\u0103 la sf\u00e2r\u0219itul razelor!
\n\u00een umbre intr\u00e2nd
\ncuv\u00e2ntul vertical\/ urc\u0103
\n\u00eentrece \u00eenserarea acolo unde
\nalbul curge invers
\nf\u0103r\u0103 a p\u0103ta memoria
\nzilei
\npune cercul \u00eentre
\nsimplitatea virgulelor
\nce ne alc\u0103tuiesc \u0219i
\nprinde-l de mijloc
\napoi ia-m\u0103 de m\u00e2n\u0103
\nla cobor\u00e2re
\n\u00eenvele\u0219te-m\u0103 la
\nmarginea lui zero
\nc\u00e2nt\u0103-mi acolo
\nc\u00e2nt\u0103-mi povestea
\na\u0219a cum \u00eencepea!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

GALBEN R\u0102SARE<\/strong><\/p>\n

din ochii mei plou\u0103 \u00eentruna
\na ran\u0103 ne\u00eenchis\u0103
\npeste m\u00e2ini ce se ating
\n\u00eentre apusuri
\nca oarba \u00een fa\u021ba luminii
\nm\u0103 port
\ncu rochii bogate-n dantele
\ncu \u0219aluri pe umeri
\ncurg\u00e2nd
\nlapte dintr-unul din s\u00e2ni
\nsub altul mocnind \u00eenc\u0103
\nfocul aprins
\nde lumina dorului
\nalbastru
\n\u00eente\u021bit de aer neplutit
\n\u0219i ce mireasm\u0103 a tine
\nse repet\u0103
\ndar nu, nu-mi veni \u00eenc\u0103
\nvis nevisat!
\n\u00eentunericul \u00ee\u0219i preschimb\u0103 culoarea
\n\u00een galbenul zorilor
\nce ne-ajung<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ioan Romeo RO\u0218IIANU<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00cen fiecare joi cerul e \u015fi mai \u00eenalt<\/strong><\/p>\n

La dou\u0103 ceasuri dup\u0103 miezul nop\u0163ii r\u0103nite stele
\n\u00een fiecare joi cerul e mai ad\u00e2nc \u015fi mai \u00eenalt
\n\u00een limpezimea lui astral\u0103 pl\u00e2nge infinitul materia
\nstelele-\u015fi cern minuscule raze fl\u0103m\u00e2nde
\nprintre ramuri de ani lumin\u0103 t\u0103cere
\ndinspre-un cap\u0103t spre cel\u0103lalt
\ninfinitul muste\u015fte de moarte.<\/p>\n

Aerul dimine\u0163ii de joi miroase a Golgota
\ncu fiecare gr\u0103din\u0103 Ghetsemani distrus\u0103 de-argin\u0163ii tr\u0103d\u0103rii
\nomul s-a mai ucis pu\u0163in
\nr\u0103stignit\u0103-ntre \u015foapte-i silaba aceasta
\np\u00e2lp\u00e2ie de-at\u00e2ta durere trecutul
\nnimeni \u00eembr\u0103\u0163i\u015f\u00e2nd durerea str\u0103veche
\norice jertf\u0103 na\u015fte o speran\u0163\u0103 \u00een plus
\n\u00een suflet e o cale \u015fi-n z\u0103ri o privire t\u00e2rzie
\npentru nepotrivit pasul drume\u0163ului seara.<\/p>\n

M\u0103 preumblu prin lume c\u0103ut\u00e2ndu-mi lumina
\ne joi \u015fi n-am g\u0103sit \u00een cutia po\u015ftal\u0103 iubirea promis\u0103
\ne joi diminea\u0163a \u015fi-n lini\u015ftea grea
\nfemeia cerului \u00ee\u015fi desprinde din p\u0103r stelele
\nla cap\u0103tul drumului e moartea f\u0103c\u00e2nd plaj\u0103
\nanticip\u00e2nd umbra \u00eens\u0103il\u00e2nd lini\u015fti.<\/p>\n

E joi diminea\u0163a \u015fi Isus \u00ee\u015fi adun\u0103 apostolii martori
\nla \u00eenc-o v\u00e2nzare la \u00eenc-o tr\u0103dare zidit\u0103 prin vremi
\nun Iuda-\u015fi g\u0103te\u015fte-n oglind\u0103 s\u0103rutul uciga\u015f
\nfard\u00e2ndu-\u015fi memoria tace pl\u00e2ng\u00e2nd
\ne joi diminea\u0163a \u015fi nimeni nu \u015ftie ce frig mi-este.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adrian MUNTEANU<\/strong>
\n\"\"

LECTURI REG\u0102SITE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Episodul 15<\/strong><\/p>\n

decembrie 1989<\/em>
\n\u201eSf\u00e2r\u0219it de an \u0219i \u00eenceput de veac!\u201d
\nA\u0219a spunea \u0219i un versificator minor despre 30
\ndecembrie 1947.
\nS\u0103 nu fie, Doamne, un moment vestitor de noi mocirle \u0219i
\na\u021bipiri spirituale ale acestei na\u021bii!<\/p>\n

16 iunie 1991<\/em>
\nCe pauz\u0103 imens\u0103!
\n2 ani din via\u021b\u0103 \u00eentr-o r\u0103v\u0103\u0219ire interioar\u0103 indescriptibil\u0103.
\nCe c\u00e2\u0219tig pentru istoria noastr\u0103 \u00een care am fost prezen\u021bi
\n\u0219i noi cu ceva!
\nCine \u0219tie, poate cei de dup\u0103 noi \u00ee\u0219i vor aminti \u0219i
\nvom l\u0103sa astfel un semn al trecerii noastre prin aceast\u0103
\nlume \u00een continu\u0103 \u0219i dramatic\u0103 mi\u0219care.
\n\u00centr-un asemenea angrenaj care s-a destr\u0103mat \u00een
\ntoate direc\u021bile, regrup\u00e2ndu-se, nici timp de scris n-am
\navut, n-am sim\u021bit c\u0103 m\u0103 atrage h\u00e2rtia. Erau elemente
\nfizice ce trebuiau decantate, \u00eenregistrate \u0219i ordonate
\ncumva. Un timp al reconstruc\u021biei interioare.
\nS\u0103-mi revin f\u0103c\u00e2nd o leg\u0103tur\u0103 prin Costache Ol\u0103reanu,
\n\u201eUcenici la clasici\u201d: \u201eContinui s\u0103 citesc doar pentru a
\navea eu \u00eensumi idei.\u201d<\/p>\n

17 iunie 1991<\/em>
\nTerminat \u201e\u00censinguratul\u201d de Eugen Ionescu
\n\u00censtr\u0103inare, lume lipsit\u0103 de comunicare, alienare,
\nco\u0219maruri.
\nPesimismul realit\u0103\u021bii.
\n\u00cen sf\u00e2r\u0219it, nu mai avem nevoie de finalitate, de
\nidei \u00eenchegate, de optimism artificial. Asta se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103
\ndup\u0103 ce orizontul cititorului \u0219i publicului nostru a fost
\norientat spre facilit\u0103\u021bi, surogate \u0219i falsuri artistice.
\nBun \u00eenceput de carier\u0103 pentru Zoli Butuc. \u00cent\u00e2lnirea \u0219i
\ndrumul comun cu Radu Basarab s-ar putea s\u0103 fie
\nbenefic\u0103.
\nUn viitor actor mare?<\/p>\n

\u0218i iat\u0103 un august 1991<\/em>
\nCitez din partea conclusiv\u0103 a unui studiu referitor la
\n\u201eMiori\u021ba\u201d, semnat de D.I.Suchianu:
\n\u201e\u00cen literatura proast\u0103, sentimentele sunt duminici. \u00cen
\nliteratura de bun\u0103 calitate, sentimentele sunt cotidiene,
\nnu sentimente \u201e\u0111e zile mari\u201d, str\u0103lucitoare, subite \u0219i
\nnedurabile, nu sentimente de\u2026 aur \u0219i poleial\u0103.
\nSentimentele care ne emo\u021bioneaz\u0103 mai mult sunt acelea
\nf\u0103cute din cenu\u0219\u0103, din trecut care arde \u0219i se consum\u0103
\nclip\u0103 de clip\u0103, pentru a re\u00eenvia f\u0103r\u0103 preget. Sunt acele
\n\u201edusty answers\u201d, acele \u201er\u0103spunsuri pr\u0103foase\u201d \u0219i \u00een
\nve\u0219nic\u0103 devenire.
\nTot din Suchianu: Ibr\u0103ileanu despre Minulescu: \u201eAh!
\nDac-ar spune ceva! C\u0103 tare frumos le spune!\u201d<\/p>\n

Eugen Ionescu: \u201ePreponderen\u021ba r\u0103ului e imens\u0103\u201d
\nDE CE TREBUIE S\u0102 MURIM?
\n\u201eAr fi trebuit s\u0103 tr\u0103im \u00een afara istoriei \u0219i s\u0103 ne rug\u0103m. A\u0219
\nvrea s\u0103 cred \u00een puterea rug\u0103ciunii.\u201d
\n\u201eTr\u0103iesc tot timpul \u00eentre remu\u0219care \u0219i fric\u0103 de moarte\u201d.
\n\u201eEu cer iertare mereu omului care ar trebui s\u0103 fiu.\u201d
\n\u201eGroaza mea e prea mare pentru a l\u0103sa loc altui
\nsentiment. Din c\u00e2nd \u00een c\u00e2nd sunt \u0219i bun.\u201d
\n\u201eCa s\u0103 \u0219tim totul trebuie s\u0103 trecem prin moarte.\u201d<\/p>\n

iunie 1996<\/em>
\nO via\u021b\u0103 de om.
\nCe exact este scris a\u0219a, cu o mic.
\nC\u00e2teva vie\u021bi de zbucium \u0219i disperare, \u00een c\u00e2\u021biva ani, cu o
\nardere aproape total\u0103. Un joc de-a via\u021ba \u0219i de-a moartea.
\nLa un pas de final. Co\u0219mar!
\nIart\u0103-m\u0103, Doamne, pentru gre\u0219elile mele!
\nAt\u00e2t. A\u0219 vrea s\u0103 uit!
\nPrimul pas: O Germanie de vis la Iuliu. Apoi\u2026
\n\u00eenc\u0103run\u021bit, obosit, f\u0103r\u0103 orizont, s\u0103 o iau de la cap\u0103t. Dac\u0103
\npot. Dac\u0103 mai pot.
\nDoamne, am \u00eemb\u0103tr\u00e2nit \u0219i nici m\u0103car nu am \u00eenceput s\u0103
\ntr\u0103iesc!
\nF\u0103r\u0103 lamenta\u021bii! Scurteaz\u0103 \u0219i ceea ce mai este de f\u0103cut
\n\u0219i, poate, de tr\u0103it.
\nS\u0103 m\u0103 adun. S\u0103 \u00eencep de undeva!<\/p>\n

Mircea Eliade \u2013 \u201eSolilocvii.\u201d
\n\u201eSingurul mijloc de a ne feri de demon e s\u0103 nu
\n\u00eencerc\u0103m s\u0103 fim \u00eengeri.\u201d
\n– asceza, ca act religios, implic\u00e2nd o renun\u021bare
\norientat\u0103 c\u0103tre zeu, e o sterilizare prin puritate. \u0218i cum
\npuritatea nu apar\u021bine acestei lumi, asceza e alimentat\u0103,
\nfortificat\u0103 \u2013 \u00eentr-un cuv\u00e2nt realizat\u0103 \u2013 cu \u0219i prin g\u00e2nduri
\nde dincolo.\u201d
\n– nemurirea pentru cre\u0219tinism = o continuare \u0219i
\n\u00eemplinire glorioas\u0103 a vie\u021bii p\u0103m\u00e2ntene: RAIUL
\n– nemurirea pentru spiritul indian = nimic
\nomenesc, o reintegrare a spiritului \u00een datele sale ini\u021biale:
\nstatic, universal \u0219i supramental
\n– numai un om preocupat de m\u00e2ntuire se poate
\ndispensa de credin\u021ba \u00een progresul omenirii.\u201d<\/p>\n

A porni de la o constatare filozofic\u0103 spre
\nconstruc\u021bia unui personaj.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201eUn g\u00e2nd izvor\u00e2t \u0219i organizat \u00een singur\u0103tate e
\n\u00eentotdeauna un g\u00e2nd neterminat!!!\u201d<\/p>\n

C\u00e2nd nu e\u0219ti st\u0103p\u00e2n pe dialog apleac\u0103-te spre
\nmi\u0219c\u0103rile interioare ale personajului, uneori p\u00e2n\u0103 la o
\ndilatare monstruoas\u0103.<\/em><\/p>\n

Herman Hesse \u2013 \u201eLupul de step\u0103\u201d. De aici o continuare
\na ideii de a \u00eencepe s\u0103 construiesc epic. Eu singur, cu
\nputerile mele, acelea pe care, poate, le-am primit \u0219i nu
\nle-am cunoscut p\u00e2n\u0103 acum, n-am crezut c\u0103 exist\u0103, c\u0103
\nexist.<\/p>\n

\u00cen \u00eencercarea de a \u201ezugr\u0103vi\u201d o epoc\u0103, o stare
\ndominant\u0103 \u0219i caracteristic\u0103 unei colectivit\u0103\u021bi, DE
\n\u00ceNCEPUT CU STUDIUL TR\u0102IRILOR \u0218I
\nMODIFIC\u0102RILOR proprii unui singur individ. Apoi
\nputerea de generalizare.
\nProbabil nu e o variant\u0103 rea aceea de a prelua
\nideea dezvolt\u0103rii (studiului) omului inadaptat.<\/em><\/p>\n

Anthony Hopkins \u2013 \u201e\u0218i azi sunt st\u00e2ngaci \u00een rela\u021biile cu
\noamenii.\u201d<\/p>\n

Visul lui Haller (din \u201eLupul\u201d): lui Goethe i se
\nspunea c\u0103 a tr\u0103it cu luciditate incertitudinea, disperarea
\nvie\u021bii omene\u0219ti (\u2026) dorul arz\u0103tor dup\u0103 un regat al
\nspiritului. Tot Goethe a propov\u0103duit \u00eens\u0103 contrariul,
\nadic\u0103 sensul pe care l-ar avea str\u0103daniile noastre
\nspirituale.
\nMult mai consistent\u0103 dramatic este dezam\u0103girea
\npentru lipsa de finalitate a actelor noastre pentru
\nnesf\u00e2r\u0219ita noastr\u0103 imperfec\u021biune.<\/p>\n

ATEN\u021aIE: DAR DAC\u0102 SUBIECTUL UNEI C\u0102R\u021aI
\nSE AFL\u0102 TOCMAI AICI, \u00ceN ACEST CAIET?<\/strong><\/p>\n

STR\u0102DANIA DE A PORNI DE UNDEVA, DE A
\nG\u0102SI SUBIECTUL POTRIVIT \u00een \u00eencercarea de a
\nl\u0103sa ceva \u00een urma mea (semnul trecerii mele prin acest
\ntimp).
\nFINALUL: nu se g\u0103se\u0219te efectiv un drum, o solu\u021bie.
\nDup\u0103 at\u00e2tea c\u0103ut\u0103ri r\u0103m\u00e2ne \u00eens\u0103 \u00eentrebarea: NU
\nCUMVA SEMNUL ST\u0102 TOCMAI \u00ceN \u00ceNCERCARE?
\nnesf\u00e2r\u0219ita noastr\u0103 lips\u0103 de finalitate, superba noastr\u0103
\nimperfec\u021biune!!!
\n+ sacrificiul, jertfa \u2013 caietul ca un sacrificiu de timp
\n-jocul cu realitatea ca un sacrificiu al moralei \u0219i al
\npozi\u021biei sociale<\/p>\n

Hai c\u0103 am \u00eenceput, aleatoriu. S\u0103 fie \u00eenceputul primei
\nmele c\u0103r\u021bi?<\/p>\n

Toamna asta! Ce superb\u0103 \u0219i tandr\u0103 triste\u021be! S\u0103 fie
\n\u0103sta semnul meu distinctiv? O pecete care s\u0103 m\u0103 izoleze
\nde cei puternici, siguri pe ei, \u00eencrez\u0103tori \u0219i vulgar de
\nliniari, urm\u0103rindu-\u0219i cu obstina\u021bie \u021belul care le va reu\u0219i
\n\u00eentotdeauna? Oricum, ar fi doar o izolare par\u021bial\u0103,
\n\u00eencadrarea \u00eentr-un grup care ocup\u0103 un sertar \u2013 nu \u0219tiu
\nc\u00e2t de \u00eenc\u0103p\u0103tor \u2013 al tipologiei umane colc\u0103ind printre
\nfrunzele clipelor.
\nPe ace\u0219tia toamna \u00eei z\u0103resc foarte rar \u0219i numai
\n\u00eentr-o trecere gr\u0103bit\u0103 spre ocupa\u021bii concrete,
\nconsistente \u0219i profitabile. Trecere f\u0103r\u0103 contemplare;
\nmobile reci, \u00eentr-un decor lucrat cu minu\u021bie,
\nimprevizibil \u0219i schimb\u0103tor la fiecare adiere umed\u0103 \u0219i
\nsumbr\u0103.
\nFrunzele.\u201eAdio pic\u0103 frunza\u201d \u00censingurarea
\ntoamnei \u00een copacii cu via\u021b\u0103 prelins\u0103 \u00een fiecare fo\u0219net de
\nfrunz\u0103.
\nM\u0103 simt mai bine toamna. Poate pentru c\u0103
\nvulnerabilitatea mea se reg\u0103se\u0219te \u00een efemera geografie
\na copacilor cu ramuri mereu mai \u00eentreb\u0103toare,
\ncontorsionate \u0219i dezgolite, ar\u0103t\u0103ri \u00eempietrite, scheletice
\nsemne de \u00eentrebare \u00eenspre alt anotimp.
\nS\u0103 fie oare un sert\u0103ra\u0219 \u0219i pentru mine, uitat \u00een
\ncel\u0103lalt, \u00eenc\u0103p\u0103tor, al tipului de indivizi vulnerabili,
\nc\u0103rora cu certitudine le apar\u021bin?
\nToamna asta! Mai toamn\u0103 dec\u00e2t celelalte.
\n\u00centrebarea crengilor, persistent\u0103, ca \u0219i \u00eentrebarea mea,
\nr\u0103m\u00e2ne. Interoga\u021bie g\u00e2rbovit\u0103 de at\u00e2tea r\u0103spunsuri
\nmereu am\u00e2nate. \u00centrebare obsedant\u0103, obsesia
\n\u00eentreb\u0103rii: Cum s\u0103 las un semn?
\nCum s\u0103 las?
\nCum?
\nTrebuie s\u0103 \u00eencep de undeva! Trebuie! Clipele
\nastea care se tot preling pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine, efemere,
\n\u00eensingurate \u0219i neproductive, mereu mai departe,
\npierdute \u00een cea\u021ba fiec\u0103rei ore care le \u0219terge urmele
\npentru totdeauna.
\nClipele mele, unele consumate cu intensitate,
\naltele palide, fragile \u0219i insignifiante \u00eenc\u0103 de c\u00e2nd s-au
\nl\u0103sat c\u0103lcate, strivite de suratele lor n\u0103v\u0103lind \u00een valuri
\ndin spate, tropot \u00eenfundat de viet\u0103\u021bi f\u0103r\u0103 identitate, dar
\nputernice prin greutatea pe care \u021bi-o d\u0103 aglomerarea,
\npriviri dezgolite, interioare, imperceptibile, um\u0103r la
\num\u0103r tropotind nebune\u0219te, un singur g\u00e2f\u00e2it.
\nClipele mele. Tot mai str\u0103ine de mine, fluturi de o
\nzi, zboruri pl\u0103p\u00e2nde, dezorientate, absorbite \u00een timp, tot
\nmai multe \u00eenaintea mea, \u00eenghi\u021bite \u00een p\u00e2lp\u00e2irea fiec\u0103rei
\ndimine\u021bi, tot mai pu\u021bine \u00een urm\u0103, apropiindu-se \u0219i ele,
\ndezbr\u0103c\u00e2ndu-m\u0103 ca pe un copac \u0219i gonind mai departe,
\n\u0219uier pustiitor de toamn\u0103.
\nNu folose\u0219te nim\u0103nui un trup dezgolit. Paradoxul
\nnostru, de fiin\u021be pieritoare, aici se afl\u0103. \u00cen r\u0103sturnarea
\nasta ciudat\u0103 de eviden\u021be. Ve\u0219mintele de g\u00e2nd, ruf\u0103ria de
\nst\u0103ri \u0219i tr\u0103iri, \u00eenc\u0103l\u021b\u0103rile de convingeri \u0219i credin\u021be, pe
\nastea trebuie s\u0103 le sp\u0103l\u0103m zilnic, cu r\u0103bdare \u0219i b\u0103gare
\nde seam\u0103, s\u0103 le \u00eendrept\u0103m cutele, s\u0103 le m\u00e2ng\u00e2iem
\nasperit\u0103\u021bile \u0219i s\u0103 le at\u00e2rn\u0103m afar\u0103 la uscat, pe o sfoar\u0103
\nsub\u021bire, dar rezistent\u0103, c\u00e2t o via\u021b\u0103 de om, s\u0103 fie v\u0103zute,
\ncercetate, admirate, studiate, clasate, purecate,
\ncriticate, ordonate, pip\u0103ite, abandonate, absorbite,
\nactivate, schimbate, modelate, incorporate, elogiate,
\n\u00eennoite, tratate, luminate, sf\u00e2\u0219iate.
\nDintre toate, m\u0103car una dac\u0103 va rezista, bine
\nag\u0103\u021bat\u0103 pe sfoara ei, va salva trupul dezgolit, \u00eei va da
\nun sens. Unicitatea aceea, pe c\u00e2t de \u00eenalt\u0103, pe at\u00e2t de
\ntrainic\u0103, va fi haina r\u0103mas\u0103 \u00een b\u0103taia orelor din urm\u0103,
\nstrunite cu tehnici tot mai sofisticate de cei care vor
\nveni dup\u0103 noi. Dac\u0103 rufele \u00ee\u0219i vor dezv\u0103lui \u021bes\u0103tura,
\nfragile, spulberate de prima b\u0103taie de v\u00e2nt, p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd
\nsfoara va r\u0103m\u00e2ne alb\u0103 \u0219i goal\u0103 \u0219i singur\u0103, mormanul
\nnostru de oase dezgolite \u00ee\u0219i va pierde liantul,
\n\u00eempr\u0103\u0219tiindu-se \u0219i compun\u00e2ndu-se \u00een desene str\u0103ine,
\nnecunoscute \u0219i indescifrabile. Numele vor r\u0103m\u00e2ne
\ngr\u0103mezi de litere f\u0103r\u0103 sens, foneme f\u0103r\u0103 identitate.
\nVe\u0219m\u00e2ntul meu, at\u00e2rnat pe sfoar\u0103 din orgolioasa
\ndorin\u021b\u0103 de-a nu m\u0103 n\u0103rui.
\nHaina face pe om!
\nHaina poate r\u0103m\u00e2ne. Omul sigur dispare.
\nHaina e omul.
\nOmul e o hain\u0103 (o ruf\u0103?)
\nHaina, semnul trecerii omului.
\nOmul trece, haina r\u0103m\u00e2ne.
\nV\u00e2ntul \u0219i fr\u00e2nghia pe care se afl\u0103 semnul nostru.
\nOmul trece, doar semnul lui r\u0103m\u00e2ne. Dac\u0103 n-a uitat s\u0103-l
\nfixeze bine pe fr\u00e2nghie, \u00een b\u0103taia v\u00e2ntului, zbicit de
\nsoarele anotimpurilor.
\nCum s\u0103 las un semn?
\nAu trecut decenii \u0219i n-am \u00eenv\u0103\u021bat de unde s\u0103
\n\u00eencep. Am r\u0103mas doar cu presiunea acestei \u00eentreb\u0103ri
\nf\u0103r\u0103 trup. Din ce s\u0103-mi croiesc haina aceea ca o d\u00e2r\u0103
\npeste brume \u0219i ploi? Dar dac\u0103 nici n-ar trebui s\u0103 m\u0103
\ng\u00e2ndesc la a\u0219a ceva? De ce at\u00e2ta patim\u0103 pentru un
\nsemn? S\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 dup\u0103 tine, f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 te po\u021bi bucura de
\nel, tu, mormanul de oase f\u0103r\u0103 trup? Pentru numele t\u0103u,
\npentru copiii t\u0103i? Ce orgoliu sau ce altruism!
\nS\u0103 tr\u0103ie\u0219ti prin semn; s\u0103 tr\u0103ie\u0219ti \u00een amintirea lor
\nca o fiin\u021b\u0103 care a l\u0103sat ceva \u00een urma ei, care a tr\u0103it nu
\ndoar a supravie\u021buit. Poate pe acel ceva se poate
\nconstrui mai departe. Nu-i la\u0219i s\u0103 ia totul de la cap\u0103t,
\nde la \u00eenceput.
\nGenerozitatea de om pieritor. Nu se poate s\u0103 nu
\nfie \u0219i trufia de a te \u0219ti prezent, de a nu r\u0103m\u00e2ne \u00een turm\u0103,
\nde a ie\u0219i la \u00eenaintare, de a te distinge din mul\u021bime, chiar
\ndup\u0103 ce nu vei mai fi. Parc\u0103 totu\u0219i nu e principalul
\nmotiv. Dar cum s\u0103 las semnul acela? Nu e deloc
\nsuficient numai s\u0103 vrei. Dac\u0103 ar fi a\u0219a, a\u0219 construi un
\nedificiu \u00een forme diverse, clasice sau moderne, chiar din
\ngrafemele acestei \u00eentreb\u0103ri. A\u0219 putea, de pild\u0103, s\u0103
\nalc\u0103tuiesc o simpl\u0103 c\u0103su\u021b\u0103 de vacan\u021b\u0103:
\nSEMN
\nUN
\nCUM S\u0102 LAS
\nSau m-a\u0219 osteni s\u0103 zidesc un apartament trainic:
\nSEMN
\nUN
\nSA LAS
\nCUM
\nA\u0219 putea \u00eencropi chiar un mic palat:
\nM N
\nS E
\nU N
\nLA S
\nS \u0102
\nC U M
\nDin p\u0103cate, aici avem numai semnul semnului.
\nUn semn f\u0103r\u0103 semn. Dar semnul propriu-zis, trupul,
\ncon\u021binutul, \u00eenveli\u0219ul, haina?
\nCe s\u0103 fie acesta? Un obiect material, confec\u021bionat
\nde m\u00e2inile mele? Nu sunt preg\u0103tit pentru asta. \u00cemi
\nlipsesc acele \u00eendem\u00e2n\u0103ri me\u0219te\u0219ug\u0103re\u0219ti, a\u0219a c\u0103 n-are
\nniciun rost s\u0103 m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc la \u00eentruparea unui g\u00e2nd \u00een
\nforme concrete. Cu desenul ar fi la fel. La fel cu
\nbroderia, fotografiatul sau muzica. Pe unele le pot privi
\nsau asculta cu deosebit\u0103 pl\u0103cere \u0219i chiar cu spirit critic.
\nDe aici p\u00e2n\u0103 la realizarea lor efectiv\u0103 este pentru mine
\nacela\u0219i drum lung care se \u00eenfund\u0103 la un moment dat
\n\u00eentr-un punct ca \u0219i de la idee la \u00eentruparea ei \u00een sens.
\nSe pot imagina cel pu\u021bin 30 de ani de asemenea
\n\u00eentreb\u0103ri f\u0103r\u0103 materializare? O c\u0103utare zadarnic\u0103
\n\u00eentr-un furnicar de zile pline de convenien\u021be, \u00eent\u00e2lniri,
\nvorbe, izb\u00e2nzi, dureri, c\u0103ut\u0103ri, schimb\u0103ri, vorbe, iubiri,
\nm\u00e2ng\u00e2ieri, activit\u0103\u021bi, lecturi, renun\u021b\u0103ri, bucurii,
\navans\u0103ri, vizion\u0103ri, c\u0103deri, dialoguri, deziluzii,
\ncontempl\u0103ri, urc\u0103ri, vorbe, monologuri, vis\u0103ri,
\napropieri, cobor\u00e2ri, tensiuni, c\u0103l\u0103torii, suferin\u021be, vorbe.
\nDin ele se \u00eentrupeaz\u0103 semnul? Nimic distinctiv, nimic
\nparticular, unic, specific. Doar un edificiu fragil care se
\nn\u0103ruie definitiv atunci c\u00e2nd trupul \u021bi se azv\u00e2rle \u00eentr-o
\ngroap\u0103 identic\u0103 cu a celorlal\u021bi, deveni\u021bi aidoma \u021bie.
\nFrunze de toamn\u0103, planare r\u0103v\u0103\u0219it\u0103 spre p\u0103m\u00e2ntul cu
\ncare se vor \u00eent\u00e2lni f\u0103r\u0103 putin\u021ba unei evad\u0103ri.
\nFrunze galbene, lut cleios. frunze de lut, de m\u00e2l,
\nde mocirl\u0103, de n\u0103mol, de glod, de t\u0103u, de noroi, de tin\u0103.
\nAmprentele toamnei.
\nPoate liantul conteaz\u0103, ce pui acolo \u00eentre c\u0103r\u0103mizile
\ng\u00e2ndului t\u0103u. Dar asta e o alt\u0103 problem\u0103 de discutat \u0219i
\napoi de trecut la fapte. Poate c\u0103 \u00eentre urmele imateriale
\nale zilelor de p\u00e2n\u0103 acum, poate c\u0103 din r\u0103m\u0103\u0219i\u021bele
\nsupravie\u021buirii doar la un prim nivel, la parter, se pot
\naduna ni\u0219te elemente care s\u0103 alc\u0103tuiasc\u0103 liantul. Nu pot
\ns\u0103 cred c\u0103 totul a trecut f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 lase urme. Ba, din
\ncontr\u0103, cred c\u0103 totul a \u00eensemnat ceva adunat sub
\nno\u021biunea de experien\u021b\u0103 din care, dac\u0103 am pu\u021bin\u0103 logic\u0103,
\ndisponibilitate \u0219i consisten\u021b\u0103 a memoriei afective, de a
\nselecta \u0219i ordona ni\u0219te tr\u0103iri s-ar putea \u00eenchega ceva
\ncare s\u0103 \u00eemplineasc\u0103 zidirea mea particular\u0103, semnul
\nmeu unic.
\nDa, aici s\u0103 m\u0103 opresc \u0219i s\u0103-mi fac curaj. Trebuie pornit
\nla drum, cu entuziasm \u0219i cu fervoarea celui care are de
\nrecuperat timpul pierdut.
\n(Va urma)<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lucian M\u0102N\u0102ILESCU<\/strong>
\n\"\"

AUTOIZOLARE \u00ceN BABILON<\/p>\n

Blocul \u00een care tr\u0103iesc
\ne un Babilon al singur\u0103t\u0103\u0163ii,
\nfiecare lucru \u0163ip\u0103 pe limba lui,
\ntavanul se umple de g\u0103uri
\nprin care mi\u015fun\u0103 borma\u015fini
\n\u015fi picamere, scaunele bat din picioare
\ncucul din ceas o ia razna, la tv
\nse transmite \u00een reluare viitorul,
\nfrica de moarte devine o intimitate
\ncu masc\u0103, culorile zorn\u0103ie…<\/p>\n

\u201eBun\u0103 seara, vecine!\u201d \u2013 zice
\ntelefonul, nu r\u0103spunde nimeni,
\nDumnezeu a a\u0163ipit cu receptorul
\nla ureche \u015fi cerul se face \u0163\u0103nd\u0103ri
\n\u015fi m\u00e2ine diminea\u0163\u0103 vom avea iar
\nvoie s\u0103 p\u0103\u015fim dou\u0103 ore prin cioburi.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ACEST FO\u015eNET<\/p>\n

\u00cemi place s\u0103 te v\u0103d \u00een \u00eentuneric
\nnumai cu degetele \u015fi s\u0103 spun:
\n\u201eIat\u0103, acest fo\u015fnet este iubita mea,
\naceste t\u0103ceri sunt buzele ei \u015fi ochii ei
\nsunt felul \u00een care r\u0103sare soarele
\nla cel\u0103lat cap\u0103t al lumii…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00cemi place s\u0103 te v\u0103d \u00een amintire
\n\u015fi s\u0103 spun: \u201eFata aceasta, care trece
\nprintre fluturi \u015fi nori e iubita mea!..
\nO recunosc dup\u0103 cum \u00eenfloresc
\ntrandafirii \u015fi dup\u0103 cum se face
\ndintr-o dat\u0103 duminic\u0103.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00cemi place s\u0103 visez \u015fi s\u0103 spun:
\n\u201eFata asta care nu exist\u0103 este
\niubita mea, o recunosc dup\u0103
\nb\u0103t\u0103ile inimii \u015fi dup\u0103 cerul albastru!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ACORDEONUL DE PA\u015eTE<\/p>\n

Cu o arip\u0103 sf\u00e2\u015fiat\u0103 pe um\u0103r,
\n\u00een pantaloni scur\u0163i \u015fi descul\u0163,
\nam fugit spre cap\u0103tul lumii.<\/p>\n

Am fugit de acas\u0103
\nsup\u0103rat pe rostogolirea \u00een iarb\u0103
\n\u015fi pe mestecenii din poart\u0103
\n\u00eenc\u0103run\u0163i\u0163i de grija zilei de m\u00e2ine.<\/p>\n

Pe atunci c\u0103r\u0103rile erau nesf\u00e2r\u015fite,
\ncerul un bordei cu acoperi\u015ful
\nc\u0103zut \u00eentr-o r\u00e2n\u0103 \u015fi bucuria
\nun cire\u015f amar, \u00een care \u00eenfrunzeau vr\u0103biile.<\/p>\n

Fericit\u0103 putea fi diminea\u0163a aceea, dar
\nm-am f\u0103cut iar copil \u015fi m-am \u00eentors
\niar tata mi-a cump\u0103rat, de Pa\u015fte,
\nun acordeon, la care c\u00e2nta,
\n\u00een fiecare duminic\u0103, singur\u0103tatea.<\/p>\n

Nu mai avem curajul s\u0103 arunc\u0103m
\n\u00een abisul plutind peste ape, numim
\ntotul prin semne, cu buzele \u00eenghe\u0163ate…<\/p>\n

Inima st\u00e2rne\u015fte tobele t\u0103cerii
\n\u015fi stoluri de lebede alunec\u0103
\nprin cerul cu gratii iar firele de iarb\u0103
\n\u015fi copacii \u00ee\u015fi pleac\u0103 frun\u0163ile
\n\u00een \u0163\u0103r\u00e2n\u0103, comp\u0103timindu-ne!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Armina Flavia ADAM M-OI DUCE M-oi duce cu frigul, m-oi duce, Sfiala mai larg\u0103-i acum, C\u00e2t noaptea e-o pat\u0103 de<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":18,"featured_media":10070,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"colormag_page_container_layout":"default_layout","colormag_page_sidebar_layout":"default_layout","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"video_url":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7,328],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10481"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/18"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10481"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10481\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10485,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10481\/revisions\/10485"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10070"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10481"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10481"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10481"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}