Help Smaranda

Smaranda laughs and her laughter tinkles through cyberspace.

She talks about her cats as if they’re her family.

She is bubbly and fresh and new, with just a smattering of wicked humour.

She enjoys little oddities and takes delight in them.

She holds close to her heart what may seem trivial to the world.

She twists things around and the world smiles.

Her sense of humour, however freaky, is delicious.

She has great goals and even greater determination to make them happen.

She is always awesome, even though she says so.

She is one of those people that make my days bright and sunny.

She is only 33, fighting a battle for her life and needs all the help she can get.

Help Smaranda keep her sunshine alive.

And although I search for words to describe the strange liquid feelings I harbour inside, the only words I have access to have all been said before.

Jacques Prévert – Alicante

An orange on the table
Your dress on the rug
And you in my bed
Sweet gift of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life

I write a turquoise sea,
my beloved,
a reeling sea rolling passions,
born in the long held breath of love,
rolling passions
against the rock
of my breaking heart.

I write a silver rain,
my beloved,
a warming rain spilling lessons
born in the fevered dream of love,
spilling lessons
from the soft lips
of the whispered world.

I write the cliff-top
where we eat the wild wind with our hearts.

I write the jungle
where we writhe in sun-serpent shadows.

I write the desert
where we carve desire from the sky.

I write the flame of love,
the pride-blue flame
that drives me to my knees,
that drenches you with adore,
that cries the little agony-prayer,
and scratches another night
from the skin calendar.

And then,
clutching at the wet hair
of tomorrow,
I write my secrets
on the temple of your curved back
with my lips,
until you sleep there,
in that desire
carved from the sky.

I prepev…

Čežnja isklesana od neba

Pišem tirkiznim morem,
Voljena,
Zaljuljanim morem koje valja strasti,
Rodjenim u zadržanom dugom uzdahu ljubavi,
Koja valja strasti
Kršeći ih o stene
Moga krhkog srca.

Pišem srebrnom kišom,
Voljena,
Tople lekcije koje iz kapi nastaju,
Rodjene u uzavrelom snu ljubavi,
Lekcije koje nastaju
Sa toplih usana
Prošaputanih reči.

Pišem liticom,
Gde jedemo divlje vetrove svojim srcima.
Pišem džunglom
Gde se uvijamo u senkama zmijolikog sunca.
Pišem pustinjom,
Gde klešemo čežnju iz neba.

Pišem plamenom ljubavi,
Plamenom plavim kao ponos
Koji me baca na kolena
I preplavljuje te obožavanjem
I uzvikuje molitvu u agoniji,
I precrtava još jednu noć
Na kalendaru kože.
 
A onda,
Čvrsto se držeći vlažnih pramenova
Sutrašnjice,
Pišem svoje tajne
Na hramu tvojih izvijenih ledja
Svojim usnama
Dok ne zaspiš,
Tu, unutar te čežnje,
Isklesane od neba.

… but heart only recognizes one, as it crackles and wheezes, like an old dusty vinyl record, trying to remember the sound it used to make…

***

There once was a castle. Like in all proper fairy-tales. Although this is not a fairy tale. So, the castle was there, floating between the earth and skies, bigger than life itself, and visible only to me.

As I walk, it sometimes quivers above my head, sometimes just slides in the air behind me and then at times it lands on my shoulders and envelops me completely.

Like in all proper fairy tales, the castle hides the myriad of rooms, halls and chambers. Unlike any fairy tale – there are no locks. No keys. No doors. And each and every room is so familiar to me, yet a complete surprise. I never know which room I may find or enter next. Never can even imagine what can await in the next space… yet, all I know of you is always there.

I find myself walking the streets conscious completely of this „presence“ hovering above me. Never too far. Sometimes – too close.

When it first became mine, it was vast and airy, filled with laughter, music and thousand joys of anticipations. Its halls echoing with yearnings of the things yet to come. And I was proud of its existence. Kept it jealously to myself, savouring every minute I spent wondering through its spaces. Every little corner held a memory, a melody, an image of hope, a ghost of togetherness…

I used to revel in sudden surprising discoveries all over the place: the hidden drawers that held the nicely folded and perfumed caresses, big old oak wardrobes that cherished the stolen cuddles and forbidden whispers, all tumbled together and far from sight…

Laughter echoed, spiraling down the stairways, only occasionally entwining with the sweet melodies of times past, or the quiet rustling of leaves that morning when we came out from the enchanted forest, amazed that the world did not change overnight, fearing we were too different to get immersed in it without feeling bruised by the Big Mundane…

But that was then… I never wondered why the castle was there. I was just glad it was. It held me in its embrace, making me treasure every second of every minute of you I could steal…

It was also a shield from everything and everyone that tried to come too close. No one was worthy enough. No one could even begin to compare to this unique entity we created…

The true fairy tale would have ended here and now. Its last sentence would have contained words „happy“ and „ever after“… If only…

***

It is still there, you know. Still hovering over my shoulders. But I am afraid to go in now. Last time I dared step into its domain, the gloom and mist surrounded me. Cobwebs and dust. Lonely strain of an old poem crooning somewhere from above. And it felt small, tight… reduced to just a few rooms, few halls… shattering into itself.

The walls have faded and darkened, from gleaming white into musky gray. The beautiful grand piano that treasured the Melodies is tarnished with age, its skin no longer silky and lustrous. The laughter has trickled to a sporadic sneer, and all the shine and grandeur are subdued and vanishing before my eyes.

Yet, it is still there… Still holding the memories of what once was. And I can travel the universe and find innumerable new worlds, meet myriads of new stars and constellations… Just knowing it is at my reach, until it has even one speck of you, of us – just that one, single lonely note will always make it the beginning and the ending of every fairy tale I ever dare to step into…

***

There are many theories about hearts. Many beliefs about souls. All the languages of the world, existing and gone, have words to describe that amazing duality of being one but not together…

But words are weak and fickle, powerless to ever leave the mind, keeping us their captives and never letting us go…

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