{"id":8813,"date":"2020-03-31T18:19:13","date_gmt":"2020-03-31T15:19:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/?p=8813"},"modified":"2020-03-31T18:19:13","modified_gmt":"2020-03-31T15:19:13","slug":"scriitori-stefan-costache-andrei-albastra-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/?p=8813","title":{"rendered":"Scriitori de azi – \u0218tefan Costache Andrei – Ora albastr\u0103 (3)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"

lumea asta are chip de unicorn.
\nlumea asta se aude c\u00e2nd dorm,
\nca o \u0219oapt\u0103 de noapte bun\u0103,
\nca o pat\u0103 de \u00eentuneric,
\nca un \u0219oarece de bibliotec\u0103, veste nou\u0103
\nlumea asta se desf\u0103\u0219oar\u0103 ca o hart\u0103 veche.
\nz\u00e2mbetele noastre au aprins jarul;
\nosta\u0219ii au ro\u0219it de frumuse\u021bea ta
\n\u0219i toate florile au p\u0103lit de dorul t\u0103u,
\nprietene, prieten\u0103,
\nc\u00e2nd \u00eemi povestea\u021bi la ore vechi,
\ndespre g\u00e2nduri noi;
\nnici nu \u0219tii c\u00e2t de grea este noaptea
\npe genele mele,
\npe visele tale,
\npe \u0219oaptele mele,
\npe poezia mea…<\/p>\n

sens<\/strong><\/p>\n

cuv\u00e2ntul este perfec\u021biunea din care se adap\u0103,
\nla orice fream\u0103t de v\u00e2nt, poezia.
\ndaca este verde, doar cerul mai poate s\u0103pa f\u00e2nt\u00e2ni
\n\u00een c\u00e2mpiile catalaunice din care Attila \u00ee\u0219i hr\u0103nea
\nsperan\u021bele \u0219i caii fl\u0103m\u00e2nzi de j\u0103ratec.
\nnu ai nici o vin\u0103 dac\u0103 vara \u0219i-a trimis greierii
\ns\u0103 c\u00e2nte abulic, rece cu stropi alba\u0219tri de ploaie.<\/p>\n

vis<\/strong><\/p>\n

se f\u0103cea c\u0103 era prim\u0103var\u0103
\n\u0219i osta\u0219ii b\u0103teau cuie \u00een
\npere\u021bii od\u0103ii.
\n\u00eemi doream s\u0103 \u00ceL cobor
\nde pe cruce.
\nsim\u021beam c\u0103 m\u0103 pr\u0103bu\u0219esc in lacrimi
\n\u00cei simt \u0219i acum prezen\u021ba
\n\u00een palmele mele arse de dor!
\nam visat c\u0103 m\u0103 duceam la
\n\u0219coal\u0103 \u0219i c\u0103 mirosea a fum
\nde \u00eentuneric din cenu\u0219a visului lipit
\nde inima tat\u0103lui fiului risipitor.<\/p>\n

\u00cen\u021belegere<\/strong><\/p>\n

Aceast\u0103 lume este suficient\u0103
\ns\u0103 \u0219tiu de ce Dumnezeu
\n\u0219i-a \u00eentins m\u00e2inile
\ncare au f\u0103cut Cerul \u0219i P\u0103m\u00e2ntul
\npe un lemn.
\nO, semn umil care pe toate le vindec\u0103!
\nVanitas vanitatum.
\nVia\u021ba mea hazliu se tope\u0219te,
\n\u00een acte oficiale,
\nca o lum\u00e2nare vie:
\nOamenii vor s\u0103 mearg\u0103 pe ape.<\/p>\n

p\u0103rere de r\u0103u<\/strong><\/p>\n

Doamne, a\u0219 fi vrut s\u0103 iau, pe umeri,
\ntoate greut\u0103\u021bile acestei lumi perfecte.
\nNici o povar\u0103 nu mi-a p\u0103rut at\u00e2t de grea
\nprecum Crucea care unea iubirea Ta
\ncu dezn\u0103dejdea mea!<\/p>\n

truism<\/strong><\/p>\n

poezia cost\u0103 abrupt
\nuneori
\ndoar un pahar de vin.<\/p>\n

\u00eendemn<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u021bine-m\u0103-n bra\u021be p\u00e2n\u0103 vei vrea
\ns\u0103 nu te mai temi de penele de curent
\ndin ora\u0219ul \u00een care nimeni nu are curaj
\ns\u0103 \u00ee\u0219i picteze sufletul pe garduri.
\nri\u0219ti s\u0103 prime\u0219ti o mustrare din partea
\nfluturilor care nu mai g\u0103sesc loc s\u0103 treac\u0103
\nspre egoista mea mirare.<\/p>\n

nedumerire<\/strong><\/p>\n

dac\u0103 a\u0219 fi o albin\u0103,
\nnu-i a\u0219a c\u0103 m-ai pune
\ns\u0103 \u00eenv\u0103\u021b prim\u0103vara pe de rost
\nde o sut\u0103 de ori
\np\u00e2n\u0103 a\u0219 recunoa\u0219te cu inima
\nars\u0103 de dor, plin\u0103 de polen,
\norice adiere de v\u00e2nt?<\/p>\n

Imbold<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00eemi vine sa dau like c\u0103 am fost martor cumplit
\nal spectacolului \u0219arametian de bufoni imaturi! scris
\ncu via\u021b\u0103 \u0219i moarte \u00een rol de
\nimberb, cerul avea cap de cret\u0103 \u0219i poezia
\nr\u0103m\u00e2nea tremur\u00e2nd de frig in gara de vest.
\nc\u00e2nd se va bate ultimul cui \u00een frica noastr\u0103
\nc\u00e2nd se va arunca g\u0103ina ro\u0219cat\u0103
\n\u00een bra\u021bele unei babe fl\u0103m\u00e2nde \u0219i oamenii
\nvor da n\u0103val\u0103 la gogo\u0219i \u0219i la pietre
\ncu dor voind s\u0103 se prefac\u0103 \u00een p\u00e2ine,
\npoezia va r\u0103m\u00e2ne martor desuet
\nal trecerii noastre \u00een ziua care nu se va termina
\nniciodat\u0103.<\/p>\n

reflec\u021bie<\/strong><\/p>\n

ne este dor at\u00e2t de mult de noi
\nc\u0103 am vrea s\u0103 vedem moartea
\nla Cap\u0219a cum cite\u0219te ziarul despre
\ncei care au scris cu cret\u0103 pe spatele ei
\nc\u0103 este o mare fraier\u0103!<\/p>\n

hot\u0103r\u00e2re<\/strong><\/p>\n

aceast\u0103 ploaie s-a legat la ochi
\ncu oameni; \u00eemi este team\u0103
\ns\u0103 \u00eei pun un titlu amar ca o via\u021b\u0103.
\ntotu\u0219i, am s\u0103 \u00eei pun \u00een palme un
\nbilet de bun venit \u0219i o p\u0103p\u0103die.
\nnedumerit\u0103, ar continua
\ns\u0103 ne alunge adolescen\u021bii \u00een inimi.
\ncred c\u0103 am un singur ochi \u0219i e ud,
\nstau ca un cer\u0219etor \u0219i a\u0219tept
\ns\u0103 pot g\u0103si o f\u0103r\u00e2m\u0103 de suflet
\n\u00een apa asta neagr\u0103 \u00een cerul gurii.<\/p>\n

ploaia<\/strong><\/p>\n

ca o pas\u0103re z\u0103lud\u0103
\na cuib\u0103rit \u00een visele mele
\n\u0219i a \u00eentrebat c\u00e2t este ceasul.
\nnu mai aveam nenoroc
\ns\u0103 \u00eei leg de aripi.
\na\u0219a, am num\u0103rat vocalele
\n\u0219i consoanele care au avut loc
\nneap\u0103rat pe \u021bigl\u0103.
\nobraznic\u0103,
\nploaia se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 ca \u00een 1997
\nf\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 \u021bin\u0103 cont c\u0103 ne este foame
\nde tine,
\nde mine,
\nde noi,
\nde noi…<\/p>\n

fascinant\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

e\u0219arf\u0103 la g\u00e2t, prins\u0103 cu multe
\nfire de p\u0103ianjen;
\ntrecutul, aceast\u0103 ap\u0103 vie din poveste,
\nne b\u00e2ntuie pupilele cu ploaie.
\nalunec\u0103, pe o p\u00e2nz\u0103, l\u00e2ng\u0103 litera 5;
\n\u0219tiam c\u0103 potcoavele ei sunt
\nprilej de unlike pe scena aceasta
\ncolorat\u0103 albastru de precupe\u021bii
\ncare nu ar da un ban s\u0103 citeasc\u0103
\nsufletul t\u0103u,
\n\u00een loc de ziar,
\nla micul dejun,
\nla micul dejun,
\ndin preaplinul p\u00e2nzei de m\u0103tase.<\/p>\n

lumin\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

ai parfum de stamine.
\npicuri polen \u00een amintire
\n\u0219i te joci de-a c\u00e2mpie
\n\u0219i prunduri.
\nse ridic\u0103 din luturi
\nmu\u0219uroaie \u0219i ciuturi.
\npeste oameni \u0219i lucruri,
\ndoar muguri,
\ndoar struguri,
\ndoar fluturi…<\/p>\n

poezia<\/strong><\/p>\n

piaz\u0103 rea, poezia!
\nm-a ucis de at\u00e2tea ori,
\ncu noaptea legat\u0103 la ochi,
\nm-a dezmierdat,
\nmi-a spus c\u0103 sunt tare naiv,
\nc\u0103 doar tu e\u0219ti spaima ei,
\ndoar tu o po\u021bi ucide,
\nla r\u00e2ndul t\u0103u,
\nchiar dac\u0103 ai fost prima
\nliter\u0103 din cuprinsul ei,
\nchiar dac\u0103 tu ai putere
\ns\u0103 \u00eemi \u00eenchizi genele
\ns\u0103 \u00eemi \u00eenchizi genele
\ncu mult\u0103 durere,
\ncu mult\u0103 \u0219i grozav\u0103 t\u0103cere…<\/p>\n

Accident<\/strong><\/p>\n

m\u0103 pi\u0219c\u0103 o furnic\u0103 de suflet,
\nnu \u0219tiu cum s-a strecurat acolo;
\nnici prim\u0103vara nu \u0219tie de unde
\na venit, cu sete de oameni, s\u0103 cotrob\u0103ie
\ndup\u0103 inima ta,
\ndup\u0103 inima ta
\nc\u0103pruie…<\/p>\n

altfel<\/strong><\/p>\n

respir\u0103 prim\u0103vara duios;
\ncu \u0219uier de criv\u0103\u021b \u00ee\u021bi spune
\nc\u00e2t de mult te iubesc…
\nvars\u0103 cerneal\u0103 de lun\u0103
\npeste fruntea ta,
\npeste fruntea ta…
\nstr\u0103zile s-au cumin\u021bit
\n\u0219i mi-e mil\u0103 s\u0103 pun litere mari;
\ncine te-ar mai putea goni
\ndin str\u00e2nsoare…
\ncine te-ar mai putea chema,
\ncine ar putea pune noaptea
\nla cing\u0103toare…
\ncare haiduc, care haiduc…<\/p>\n

Prim\u0103var\u0103, pot…<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lumin\u0103, de c\u00e2nd nu te-ai mai bucurat de at\u00e2ta verde crud?
\nNe-mbie el s\u0103 ne amintim cuminte, de luntre,
\nde mugurii de salcie v\u0103rsa\u021bi peste altare
\nla Denia \u00een care Christ se pune \u00een morm\u00e2nt,
\n\u0219i de polenul care ne \u00eembie, un veac sa mai dorim
\ns\u0103 ne-mpl\u00e2nt\u0103m \u00een lanul de secar\u0103?
\nPrea gr\u0103bi\u021bi trece\u021bi, muritorilor,
\nl\u00e2ng\u0103 minunea ce o s\u0103 se deschid\u0103,
\n\u00een geamuri amor\u021bite de z\u0103pad\u0103, la primul semn de rou\u0103:
\npetale de corcodu\u0219, de zarz\u0103r sau de cire\u0219 amar.<\/p>\n

Tablou de amiaz\u0103 de prim\u0103var\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

Universul este-n continu\u0103 expansiune pe aripile unei buburuze ro\u0219ii:
\nTot soarele se vars\u0103 \u00een valuri deasupra elitrelor de mu\u0219ama.
\nDin labe de pisic\u0103, evadeaz\u0103 o musc\u0103 ame\u021bit\u0103 de dorul c\u0103ldurii lui cuptor.
\nPe pleoape m\u0103 zg\u00e2rie un singur vis:
\nS\u0103 facem unghii false din florile crescute-ntre trotuare
\n\u0219i s\u0103 ne punem flori de corcodu\u0219 pe lacrimi.
\nO g\u00e2z\u0103 \u00ee\u0219i \u00eentinde peste fluturi p\u00e2nza.
\nSe r\u0103t\u0103ce\u0219te luna-n zodii \u0219i se face cald
\n\u00een aspra str\u0103lucire a soarelui de mai.
\nDin hum\u0103, str\u0103mo\u0219ii pl\u0103m\u0103desc hotare,
\n\u0219i focul, focul \u00eemplinirilor de ieri
\nne \u00eennoie\u0219te s\u00e2ngele cu o umil\u0103 oal\u0103 cu urzici!<\/p>\n

Defini\u021bie de prim\u0103var\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

Prim\u0103vara miroase a oameni, a semin\u021be
\na zbor de grauri, a lut \u0219i a sulfin\u0103.
\nAre chip de Christ pe Golgota.
\n\u00cen copil\u0103rie mereu a fost, este \u0219i va fi
\nbucurie simpl\u0103, veste bun\u0103 \u0219i uneori plou\u0103!
\nMiroase a pasc\u0103, a bunici \u0219i a lavi\u021b\u0103 nou\u0103,
\na ou ro\u0219u \u0219i a cozonac, a salcie crud\u0103,
\n\u0219i a prohod.
\nPrim\u0103vara este luntrea lui Dumnezeu,
\npentru str\u0103inii de vise \u0219i cer,
\nplutind c\u0103tre neb\u0103nuita toamn\u0103 ;
\ndin frumuse\u021bea ei se \u00eenal\u021b\u0103, ca o lun\u0103 vie-n icoane
\n\u00een inimi, descul\u021b \u0219i b\u0103tut peste fa\u021b\u0103, Domnul Iisus.<\/p>\n

Aiureal\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n

Cu soarele acelei zile
\nm-am \u00eent\u00e2lnit diminea\u021b\u0103
\ncu g\u00e2nd de t\u0103cere.
\nR\u0103utatea ta, etern\u0103 felin\u0103,
\nmi-a s\u0103rit \u00een g\u00e2nd.
\nPe teras\u0103 a r\u0103mas
\nstafia unei poezii perfecte!<\/p>\n

Defini\u021bie<\/strong><\/p>\n

Polen. Stamine \u0219i emo\u021bii.
\nS\u0103ruturi infinite. Moin\u0103.
\nLarm\u0103. Curge la stre\u0219ini.
\nPlou\u0103. Vr\u0103bii gure\u0219e \u0219i petale.
\nFemei. Dumnezeu z\u00e2mbe\u0219te.
\nMiresme. Frumuse\u021be \u0219i cer.
\nE prim\u0103var\u0103!<\/p>\n

Triste\u021be<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00cemi place luna, cu miros de rom,
\nbiscuit \u00een batista copil\u0103riei-paralel\u0103
\ncu linia ferat\u0103 de la est la vest!
\n\u00cencet, cascadorii prim\u0103verii au reu\u0219it
\ns\u0103 mi te trimit\u0103 \u00een vise!
\n\u00cen bra\u021be, am auzit c\u00e2ntat de coco\u0219.
\nNu m\u0103 voi lep\u0103da de r\u0103s\u0103ritul pesmet-
\nrotund ca un bo\u021b de ca\u0219caval!
\nNu pl\u00e2nge, \u00een amonte
\nstrada mi se prelinge \u00een g\u00e2nduri
\nca o prim\u0103var\u0103 moart\u0103!<\/p>\n

M\u0103rturisire<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u021ai-am furat luna din suflet!
\nEra, a\u0219a, speriat\u0103, rotund\u0103 \u0219i amar\u0103!
\nAvea chipul t\u0103u \u0219i mirosea discret
\na f\u00e2n.
\nAm ascuns-o cu fric\u0103 \u0219i c\u00e2ntec
\nde rapsozii cu chef de lumin\u0103
\ncare desenau pe asfalt
\nvara \u0219i alte lucruri ciudate!<\/p>\n

?<\/strong><\/p>\n

ce \u00eenseamn\u0103 stelele care clipesc sticloase pe bolta Bunului Dumnezeu?
\nau parfum de c\u0103p\u0219une \u0219i gust de semizeu.
\nsentimentul meu profund uman are
\no foame mare de struguri
\n\u0219i de inim\u0103 \u00eendr\u0103gostit\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 la lacrimi.
\n\u00een noi se face de vecernie \u0219i de lun\u0103 plin\u0103.
\nau dat iama ho\u021bii \u00een litera u
\n\u0219i este tot mai frig l\u00e2ng\u0103 alfabetul
\ncu parfum de lume pestri\u021b\u0103 la suflet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

lumea-almanah lumea asta are chip de unicorn. lumea asta se aude c\u00e2nd dorm, ca o \u0219oapt\u0103 de noapte bun\u0103, ca<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":8585,"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":[7,321],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8813"}],"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\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8813"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8813\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8814,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8813\/revisions\/8814"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8585"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8813"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8813"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ziarulderimnic.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8813"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}