marți, 22 iulie 2014


this is the link to Jorge Enrique Gonzalez  Pacheco poetry ,for which I made the "resurrection" theme.
here is  quote:

"Ayer en centella sembré andanzas,
alguien en ti despierta ventanales;
cuando nazco en vidas de tus labranzas."

The world is full of artists,but only a few can  give life to a world of feelings with their talent.
I thank all the good people who believed in me,I thank the artist.
Thank you  my family too,and love.
Love is our resurrection.

miercuri, 26 februarie 2014


asa cum am mai spus,anumite lucruri din viata mea ma impiedica sa fiu cea pe care o cunosteati,sa creez.
facusem  aceasta lucrare  la moartea bunicii!
nu am mai facut o alta.
am realizat ca atunci(in acea seara) cand aveam nevoie disperata de a schimba cateva vorbe cu cineva,persoanele despre care credeam ca ma iubesc  au tacut.
am vorbit doar cu un mic banut.
asta e tot.
arta ta nu conteaza pt nimeni.

prieteni,am vorbit azi despre c sunt datoare cu un citat.
I always knew. No one tolerates the freedom of others, no one likes living with a free person. If you are free, that’s the price you have to pay: loneliness.
— Chavela Vargas
nimeni nu are curajul de a trai langa un spirit liber.
putini au stiinta si priceperea s o faca.
va las aici in compania unei autiste geniale ,temple.
da,am inteles atunci ca uneori altii sunt autistii ci nu aceia care s au nascut astfel.
cei care nu stiu a se folosi de cuvinte pentru a  mangaia, pentru a oferi iubirea celor care creeaza,pentru a le proteja  sufletul din care izvoraste frumosul.
repetitii conexiuni imposibile, esuarea transmiterii mesajelor,lume devenita mecanism ,fabrica,gandire prabusita in sine.,adica tot ceea ce este mai sus.
un aparat de tortura pus in functiune in mintea unui singur om,cel incapabil de a intelege propriile mecanisme si automatisme.

va multumesc si aici pt ca ati fost cu mine in trecut.

imi cer scuze pt fotografie,nu are cal maxima.
dar daca aveti putina iubire,atunci iubiti o.
in viata nu se iubeste daca faci x  sau daca faci y.
vointa mea nu va fi invinsa indiferent  de ce va face  ori va spune oricine.doar iubirea invinge.
la revedere,prieteni.(va eram datoare poate cu ac lucrare pt ca ati stat cu mine)

joi, 14 noiembrie 2013


“que ferais-je sans ce monde

que ferais-je sans ce monde sans visage sans questions
où être ne dure qu'un instant où chaque instant
verse dans le vide dans l'oubli d'avoir été
sans cette onde où à la fin
corps et ombre ensemble s'engloutissent
que ferais-je sans ce silence gouffre des murmures
haletant furieux vers le secours vers l'amour
sans ce ciel qui s'élève
sur la poussieère de ses lests

que ferais-je je ferais comme hier comme aujourd'hui
regardant par mon hublot si je ne suis pas seul
à errer et à virer loin de toute vie
dans un espace pantin
sans voix parmi les voix
enfermées avec moi

what would I do without this world

what would I do without this world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where every instant
spills in the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where in the end
body and shadow together are engulfed
what would I do without this silence where the murmurs die
the pantings the frenzies towards succour towards love
without this sky that soars
above its ballast dust

what would I do what I did yesterday and the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking for another
wandering like me eddying far from all the living
in a convulsive space
among the voices voiceless
that throng my hiddenness


joi, 7 noiembrie 2013



 Old And New

Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not.
Thou hast given me seats in homes not my own.
Thou hast brought the distant near and made a brother of the stranger.

I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed shelter;
I forget that there abides the old in the new,
and that there also thou abidest.

Through birth and death, in this world or in others,
wherever thou leadest me it is thou, the same,
the one companion of my endless life
who ever linkest my heart with bonds of joy to the unfamiliar.

When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut.
Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose
the bliss of the touch of the one
in the play of many.

joi, 31 octombrie 2013


 Who occupies this House?

Poem By: Emily Dickinson

Who occupies this House?
A Stranger I must judge
Since No one know His Circumstance --
'Tis well the name and age

Are writ upon the Door
Or I should fear to pause
Where not so much as Honest Dog
Approach encourages.

It seems a curious Town --
Some Houses very old,
Some -- newly raised this Afternoon,
Were I compelled to build

It should not be among
Inhabitants so still
But where the Birds assemble
And Boys were possible.

Before Myself was born
'Twas settled, so they say,
A Territory for the Ghosts --
And Squirrels, formerly.

Until a Pioneer, as
Settlers often do
Liking the quiet of the Place
Attracted more unto --

And from a Settlement
A Capital has grown
Distinguished for the gravity
Of every Citizen.

The Owner of this House
A Stranger He must be --
Eternity's Acquaintances
Are mostly so -- to me.

joi, 24 octombrie 2013


  Summit And Gravity

There's a motionless tree
And another one coming forward
A river of trees
Hits my chest
The green surge
Is good fortune
You are dressed in red
You are
The seal of the scorched year
The carnal firebrand
The star fruit
In you like sun
The hour rests
Above an abyss of clarities
The height is clouded by birds
Their beaks construct the night
Their wings carry the day
Planted in the crest of light
Between firmness and vertigo
You are
Transparent balance