La fiecare cateva batai de inima simt ca trebuie sa descriu, definesc altfel pagina de fata:


Doar aici, in pantecul matern al pamantului, gravitatia nu imi mai zdrobeste inima, plamanii, sufocandu-ma. Simt pulsul organic al lumii de deasupra, lume in care zilnic cutez sa pasesc.
Prin notitele mele surprind fiecare bataie de inima, vibratie, traire. Creez astfel, incet, incet, o harta a vietii care ma va aduce inapoi in imbratisarea linistii launtrice atunci cand ma voi rataci.
Si, cunoscandu-ma, prevad ca mi se va intampla in nenumarate randuri... :)


SAU

Voi scrie cel mai probabil in momentele mele de sensibilitate. Despre superficialitatea, goliciunea, nimicnicia fiecarui lucru. Despre fobia fata de ziua de luni. Despre revelatiile existentiale dinspre drumul spre casa.

SAU


OF. IUI. <3 ! :-? x_x :-j :x :s ... :)

joi, 29 martie 2012

IF - Rudyard Kipling

"
IF


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowancefor their doubting too;


If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.


If you can dream - and not make thoughts
  your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts
  your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same.


If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;


If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'.


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neighter foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;


If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
"

Acum cativa ani, poezia lui  Kipling, 'If', a fost votata poemul vaforit al Marii Britanii.
Votul meu ar fi fost acelasi.

Niciun comentariu:

Trimiteți un comentariu