Mai întîi să vă arăt cu bățul
Cele trei părți de apă
Care se văd foarte bine
În oasele și țesuturile mele:
Apa e desenată cu albastru.

Apoi cei doi ochi,
Stelele mele de mare.

Partea cea mai uscată,
Fruntea,
Continuă să se formeze zilnic
Prin încrețirea
Scoarței pămîntului.

Insula aceasta de foc este inima,
Locuită dacă nu mă înșel.

Dacă văd un drum
Mă gîndesc că acolo trebuie să fie
Picioarele mele,
Altfel, drumul n-ar avea nici un rost.

Dacă văd marea
Mă gîndesc că acolo trebuie să fie
Sufletul, altfel marmura ei
N-ar face valuri.

Mai există, desigur,
Și alte pete albe
Pe trupul meu.
Cum ar fi gîndurile și întîmplările mele
De mîine.

Cu simțurile,
Cele cinci continente,
Descriu zilnic două mișcări:
O mișcare de rotație în jurul soarelui
Și una de revoluție
În jurul morții…

Cam aceasta este harta pămîntului meu
Care va mai sta o vreme desfășurată
În fața voastră.

— Marin Sorescu, Tinerețea lui Don Quijote, 1968

Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I’ve been walking all day, and I’m nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen,
When you joined the great fallen in 1916,
Well I hope you died quick,
And I hope you died clean,
Oh Willy McBride, was is it slow and obscene.

[Chorus]
Did they beat the drums slowly,
Did the play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
Did the band play the last post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined,
And though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart you’re forever nineteen.
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane,
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained,
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.

[Chorus]
Did they beat the drums slowly,
Did the play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
Did the band play the last post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.

The sun shining down on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance,
The trenches have vanished long under the plow,
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing down.
But here in this graveyard that’s still no mans land,
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand,
Till’ man’s blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole generation were butchered and damned.

[Chorus]
Did they beat the drums slowly,
Did the play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
Did the band play the last post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.

And I can’t help but wonder oh Willy McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died,
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause,
Did you really believe that this war would end wars.
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing and dying it was all done in vain,
Oh Willy McBride it all happened again,
and again, and again, and again, and again.

[Chorus]
Did they beat the drums slowly,
Did the play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
Did the band play the last post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.

As I draw up my breath
And silver fills my eyes
I kiss her still
For she will never rise
On my weak body
Lays her dying hand
Through those meadows of Heaven
Where we ran
Like a thief in the night
The wind blows so light
It wars with my tears
They won’t dry for many years
Loves golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death ebon dart
To strike her dead

— Ești trist astă-seară, îi spuse pasărea,
văd eu că ești trist…
— Nu, nu — răspunse soldatul.
— Și totuși pari trist, zise pasărea cea albă,
pari trist.
—Nu, nu sunt trist, răspunse soldatul,
nu, nu.
—Ești trist astă-seară, văd eu,
ai ceva pe suflet — mai zise
pasărea albă.
— Nu, nu sunt trist — și lasă-mă-n pace!
se răsti la ea soldatul.
Pasărea se desprinse de pe brațul lui
și zbură fîlfîind din aripile ei mari
și albe, foarte albe.
— Unde-o fi plecat pasărea aia cuvîntătoare?
se trezi deodată soldatul, vorbind
singur.

— Nichita Stănescu, În dulcele stil clasic, 1970

http://www.yanim.net/ilotm/ilotm.htm

Melancolie, noaptea tîrziu, privind cerul. Absorb ochii mei lumina fantasmagorică, rece, aproape ireală, a unei stele atît de îndepărtate, încît strălucirea ei s-ar putea să fi dăinuit mai mult decît însăși steaua, călătorind prin univers, timp de milioane și miliarde de ani. Lumină de demult, imagine vie a unui timp imemorial. Nu cred că suntem singuri în univers. E un spațiu prea vast. Noi ne simțim însă singuri, pentru că suntem atît de mici, și durăm atît de puțin. Cîteva momente, poate.

Click pe imagine pentru mărire.

Management: How many feet do mice have?
Reply: Mice have four feet.
M: Elaborate!
R: Mice have five appendages, and four of them are feet.
M: No discussion of fifth appendage!
R: Mice have five appendages; four of them are feet; one is a tail.
M: What? Feet with no legs?
R: Mice have four legs, four feet, and one tail per unit-mouse.
M: Confusing -- is that a total of 9 appendages?
R: Mice have four leg-foot assemblies and one tail assembly per body.
M: Does not fully discuss the issue!
R: Each mouse comes equipped with four legs and a tail. Each leg
is equipped with a foot at the end opposite the body; the tail
is not equipped with a foot.
M: Descriptive? Yes. Forceful NO!
R: Allotment of appendages for mice will be: Four foot-leg assemblies,
one tail. Deviation from this policy is not permitted as it would
constitute misapportionment of scarce appendage assets.
M: Too authoritarian; stifles creativity!
R: Mice have four feet; each foot is attached to a small leg joined
integrally with the overall mouse structural sub-system. Also
attached to the mouse sub-system is a thin tail, non-functional and
ornamental in nature.
M: Too verbose/scientific. Answer the question!
R: Mice have four feet.

Cam asta-i treaba :))

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRq_SAuQDec

How can you not laugh?

Pulsează sîngele și îi simt căderile ritmice, în timp ce stau așa, liniștit, obosit, întins cu mâinile pe litere și cu capul pe mâini, scriind în timp ce dorm și dormind în timp ce scriu, cu iluziile prinse înăuntru, în spatele pleoapelor, în spatele retinei, pe întuneric, pe versurile lui Roger Waters… it all makes perfect sense, aand maybe everything is a dream and the colours are fading as I fall asleep… in my dream I dream of another dream until I dream too much.

In truck stops and hamburger joints
In Cadillac limousines
In the company of has-beens
In bent-backs
In sleeping forms on pavement steps

It’s oh so easy now
As we lie here in the dark
Nothing interferes, it’s obvious
How to beat the tears
That threaten to snuff out
The spark of our love