Receptorul se tranteste cu zgomot de gheata iar de cealalta parte a vietii se aude sunetul de ocupat, de moarte poate.
Ma intorc respirand aburul catre mainile mele inghetate. De data asta nu mai arde, nu se mai simte nimic dar nici nu-mi dau seama caci noaptea fuge si e cazul sa fug si eu. Ma uit in jur si vad cabina sticloasa… Am fost oare in ea? Am vorbit la telefon? Cu cine? Trebuie sa iau primul tren pana nu rasare soarele. Cine sunt eu?

(Nu sunt greseli de gen. Genul e cel pe care-l vrea fiecare. Intentionat am schimbat feminin cu masculin dupa cum mi-a venit.)

The fat white goats were hard to handle on the narrow street by the six kumarimi (servants from Kumari Ghar) Kama took on the road to the Shakya family. The five spry animals were constantly driving the yaks over the road, pushing them aside towards the green leafy bushes, running around, circling the barely moving cow. Kama stood head of the group almost deaf and blind to what was hapenning. Amused to see the large loud group moving chaoticly, almost in a sort of group craze which included human and animal both, just behind the impertubable Kama who was walking along quietly, Khadys’ parents held Ajeet by the hand. Finally, the group arrived to the small yellow house which seemed guarded by a kid and 2 big smiling statues.
Ajeet was curious about this man, who held his sister in the big palace. He seemed devious to the boy,but like any other child couldn’t explain to himself why he had that feeling. Khadys’ brother stood by his mother side, almost hidden behind her legs. He thought a lot but didn’t say a word. Having more animals in the household meant more chores for him, less time to play, even less without having Khady around to help him.
-These animals shall help our family thrive, said Mr. Darjit, Khadys’ father, to Kama as he was coming closer.
-I’m sure you will put my gifts to good use, Mr. Darjit.
-Come inside, Mrs. Darjit prepared some delicious goat meat with basmati rice and our special family sauce… Great-grandmothers’ recipe. I hope you will like our meal.
-I’m sure I will, this walk in the sun has made me hungry and thirsty, said Kama licking his big inferior lip. I’m happy to get to know a bit of Khadijas’ past life, the way she lived, where she was raised…
-She was a happy helping little kid. We miss her every day! Ajeet cried a lot these last days.
Ajeets’ thin little hands started shaking and his small chin trembling. A tear washed his brownish little face leaving a white path from the eye to his pink lips.
-We are having difficulties with him, he didn’t speak at all today.
At this point the dirty, shy little boy looked down with his big sad brown eyes and ran away, leaving his parents alone with Kama at the little table that stood in the middle of the room. A brief moment of silence filled the small room as everyone was thinking at the fragile little boy.
-You should explain to Ajeet that he will see his sister very soon. As a matter of fact we are expecting you all at the palace three days from now. You should come together this time. Bring the grandma also. Next week the boy will join Indiras’ visit and you will come separately, leaving the grandma to watch the household for a few hours. It’s best if you come in the after-noon. By then Khady would have finished her daily rituals.
-Thank you, said Mr. Darjit in a low voice, not adding anything else in an almost embarrasing manner. Ajeet wasn’t the only one who missed seeing Khadija in their yard, playing in the sun.
-We shall come as you say. Could you do us a favour? Give this to Khady. It was a piece of green smooth cloth. We used to cover Khady with this when she was a baby. We thought that maybe it’s best if she had something of hers if she ever felt lonely.
-I will give it to her, answered Kama, holding that piece of cloth a little bit too close to his heart. It almost seemed like it was given to him. His brown eyes sparked with content saying goodbye to Khadys’ family.
With these words Kama left and returned to the palace, walking along the same whirling waters of the same Bagmati river which inspired Khady in her short escape from Kumari Ghar.

Iulie

Si-asa e marea rasturnare
A tuturor povetelor
Din timpul vietii mele goale.
Dulceata mea si-a anilor in floare,
Le daruiesc cu drag – Miros a portocale.

Te am in fiecare vis
Surazand prostesc in noapte
De-atunci, de-acum, iubirea a deschis
Calea Dragostei in soapte.

Avem povesti cu iz de mare, avem oriunde un alcov.
Ne plac lalelele in floare…
Si numai o culoare – mov.

Mai vreau un Iulie fericit… si ne doresc aproape,
Tu deja sa fii imbatranit, eu inconjurata de nepoate.

Sa stii si tu ca te-am iubit si ca in dragoste nu-i moarte.

by Lorelei

Hmmm… Prima bucata poezie scrisa de mine. Insomniaca fiind am scris azi dimineata pe la 6. Eu acuma-s nedormita si mi se pare ca e chiar reusita pt prima incercare. Sa vad dupa ce dorm :))))))) Nu stiu mai nimic de poezie dar oricum n-am vrut sa numar iambi si alte nebunii… Mi-a placut ideea de a face un descrescendo… 5 versuri, 4 versuri, 3 versuri, 2 ve hai etc. Ultimul vers are ce-mi place mie, un joc de cuvinte, un paradox. Anywaaaaay…. astept parerile alea. Primesc dar personal, va jur :)))))))
Aaaaaaaaa, drace… N-are titlu… Acum scriind n-are daaaar… cand o sa fie postat o sa fie cu titlu. Sper. Ce titlu sa-i dau? La la laaaa, titlu, titlu, titlu… Mai, e de dragoste dar nu vreau sa fie gretos de dulce… e destul poezia :))) Insomnia? Ce legatura ar avea???? Prima? Ca-i prima? Doamne, pot sa fiu mai putin practica? Ok, ma enervez……… Gataaaaaaa. Iulie :) Simplu, nu? Scrisa pe 1 septembrie. Ce tare!

P.S.: Da, o sa ma iau si de tarfele care alearga dupa bani si pozitie si rup sufletele la fel de sensibile ale barbatilor echilibrati. No worry (as in ”nicio grija”).

Cam asa suna un status morbido-comic pe facebook, pe Peretele meu, scris de subsemnata. O deprimata subsemnata. Nebuna. Nimic nou.

Se trezeste ”prietenul” meu, Radu, poate vi-l amintiti dintr-un post sters :)), sa comenteze. Ca ”e ciudata expresia ”sa ma calce cu compresorul”. E cam greu (indiferent de tipul lui).”
Sa dea dracu daca eu am invatat in scoala de tipurile de compresor. Eu stiu doar unul de l-am vazut pe strada si am inteles eu ca e compresor de la altii mai destepti.
Buun, sa inteleg ca in rest totul era in regula, nu? Compresorul nu era bine pozitionat, in rest totul bine si frumos??

Cred ca si-a luat listuta si si-a zis:
-strangulat… Se rezolva. Check!
-aruncat de la etajul 6 minim… Eu stau la X dar la o adica o vrajesc eu sa urce pe la un 8-9. Check!
-dat foc… Sunt fumator, am bricheta. Check!
-sa o bag in punga… Ia uite cate pungi am aici, ohoooo! Check! frecandu-si mainile de bucurie.
-sa o arunc in mare… Mmm, cam dificil, 200 si de km, n-am masina, in tren e cald. Lasa ca o duc cu autocarul jos la bagaje ca e mai racoare si nu pute. Check!
-calcat cu compresorul. Bai esti nebuna, de unde dracu fac eu rost de compresor?? Proasta naibii, nu puteai sa scrii si tu masina, si de o duba faceam rost daca era cazul dar asa?? Auzi la ea, compresor, tampita…

Wtf? Cu toata deprimarea mea, n-am chef sa mor. Era un status umoristic, god damn it, era o ironie!!! Ma plangeam ca simt ca vreau sa mor asta nu inseamna ca chiar vreau sa mor. Oi fi eu morbida dar de asta ce ziceti? Compresorul era gresit, in rest totul era ok. (???) Sa dea dracu ca glumesti si astia te omoara naibii nevinovat.