sâmbătă, 30 ianuarie 2010
gloomy sunday
marți, 26 ianuarie 2010
e.e.cummings
may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she.
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome!said he
ummm said she
you're divine!said he
(you are mine said she)
Moartea mea din flori- Cristian Popescu
''Ea ma iubeste.Si nu are decat o singura dorinta:sa ma vada ingropat in Cismigiu,la leagane,la nisip.Sa am gropari numai copii.Cu lopatele si cu galetusa.Sa ma ingroape de dimineata pana seara,in fiecare zi.Ea nu stie ca nu-i pe lumea asta mormant mai bun ca-n Cismigiu.Numai de la atata si atata joaca ti se pot odihni bine pacatele.Si sa mai vina si ea din cand in cand sa-mi faca cate-un monument,un castel din nisip.
Ea-moartea mea din flori.
Mereu a visat ca fruntea ei ridata,labartata va fi folosita drept cotor de piele la un exemplar de lux al editiei mele de postume.
Toata viata m-a rugat sa scriu un roman pornografic special pentru fruntea ei.
A ei-a mortii mele din flori.
Bineinteles ca a ramas si gravida cu mine.Si nu numai o data-de nenumarate ori.
Ramanea gravida numai cu lacrima.Ma punea sa plang in ea toata noaptea.
In ea-in moartea mea din flori.
In fiecare seara,dinauntru,din pervazul oglinzii,fluiera ingeru',languros,dupa ea.
Ca trece zi de zi pe strada asta a lui si-o stie si-o place.
Pe ea-moartea mea din flori.
Ea ma iubeste.Si n-ar mai vrea decat ca masca mea mortuara,marita enorm,uriasa,sa fie turnata in argint si folosita drept acoperis pe una din turlele bisericii de pe str.Olimpului,acolo unde ne-am facut noi,de mult,nunta.Dar eu i-am spus ca asta ar fi prea de tot,ca nu se poate,ca prea exagereaza,ca pur si simplu ne-am face de ras amandoi.Asa i-am spus.
Eu-viata ei grea,imputita,din flori.''
pe culmile disperarii
Pe culmile disperarii-E.Cioran
Eloisa to Abelard-A.Pope
''No,fly me,fly me,far as pole from pole;
Rise Alps between us!and whole oceans roll!
Ah,come not,write not,think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all i felt for thee.
Thy oaths i quit,thy memory resign;
Forget,renounce me,hate whate'er was mine.''
Eloisa to Abelard-A.Pope
''How often must it love,how often hate!
How often hope,despair,resent,regret,
Conceal,disdain-do all things but forget.''