Aripi de vise - Parole sulle ali dei sogni ~ antologie internaţională - antologia internazionale ~

Pe aripi de vise “Daughter, is this the one you have been seeing so often?” “Oh, oh...” I stared at the object Gripping the arms of my chair, I uttered “OLAM?” He said calmly, „You saw a vision, my daughter” “OLAM”, „is this the one you saw my dear?” “OLAM” Right then and there It became clear. What I have been seeing is A vision, indeed, a vision A vision I long to see... time and time again. The vision flashed in 2006 Revised February, 2019 The hand of time Wives cry „you have no time for me”. Moms say „you have no time for our family”. Kids shout out, „you have no time for us”. Self-retorts, „I have no time for me”. Still ~ Perceive, we have all the time in the universe. Complacent we have time to converse, Truly we have the time to write long verses 149

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Sadly, our moments on earth are just short verses. Time is what we are running after. But Time never runs out of Time. We only waste it most of the time? Thinking we can really buy more time. And time will never return! With our joys and laughter, but do they matter? With success and wealth do you still bother? Unmindful that time is short, until it's over. 150

Pe aripi de vise Metin Cengiz CV Poet and writer (b. 3 May 1953, Kars-Göle/Turkey). So far, he wrote and published sixteen poetry books, twenty books of theory and criticism on poetry. He translated the poems of about twenty poets from different countries of the world and published them as books. His poems have been translated into about 30 languages. In 13 foreign countries, his selected poems were published as books. He received numerous awards in his country and in foreign countries. He participated in poetry festivals in many countries of the world. Rose This well-shaped garden of you in my image Like the past into which I couldn't go and come back There it is always going to blossom like that It is going to blossom in eternity That garden in my image Translated by Müesser Yeniay 151

Parole sulle ali dei sogni A Dream The sun a crystal glass on the horizon Like a tulip garden the autumn sucks it in My lips on your lips As an ant drinks water from the stream. We lie out on a vast plain of green By our door the morning revellers pass A warm flow of blood from head to toe We multiply, the earth a bunch of leaves. Translated by Neil Patrick Doherty WAR Everywhere we draw in the reek of war That even in name strikes the nostrils Like the scentof bread from afar. It’s as though some were battling inside us Life and its weapons testing death By drainingthe words of their blood. The screens are so close to the sky That it is impossible not to see God Pacing from front to front. “God must have gone mad” says my son “ not even he who chases his own mind Could be that much of an enemy to himself.” 152

Pe aripi de vise I ponder for a while on what the mind is Feeling the need to sit down on a chair And drink again until I am reeling drunk. Perhaps I will stumble across the ring I lost That my wife gifted to me one luminous night There among the pebbles where I misplaced it. Farewell my childhood love, Farewell my childhood. Hello God. Translated by Neil Patrick Doherty İlhami1 1- Come on, my friend, forget the water flows The water waves, the water calms down, the water Is the cloud fallen over the ground What is a cloud, my friend, the sky is too long The rain, the storm, then the sun Then the question if we studied life at school Then the flour that someone makes from wheat. That's it my friend it starts like a horse rearing up 1 For my poet friend İlhami Çiçek who committed suicide. 153

Parole sulle ali dei sogni How hard it is that life resembles a race Water flows, water flows and flows The stones look at it when they turn to sand Life, my friend, is a ball of thread turned into a mess! And sweaty, a horse about to crack 2- Does the ash come into mouth or its soul? How does the grass endure the lack of tongue, oh prophet? Life is the most complicated brother of death And a human is the neighing of a horse towards the sky The sound of a feast left from the stone age An inn that a refugee shelters in. We called it life, we lived as if we drank raki So that the waist of the unscrupulous bourgeoise is crippled Time sieved us, the fate hit us hard Enraged the rabid wolf in our country called faschism 3- Life is without mercy, İlhami, the truth is bitter The wind blows, the wind blows and blows Life turns into a ball of flame, the life of muslims Neither the word İlhami nor the demons of the word is left (So which master through what action 154

Pe aripi de vise Throws the crown into streets?) Life's like water, İlhami, it is not held. What rests in our hands is an astringent taste Clocks strike, clocks strike and strike Check and mate are left to the clumsiest player. My brother who shields them with his own body You're a light now on the road, you're a sign. 4- I've written about a photo by reading a face The past is near İlhami the future is far. Translated by Müesser Yeniay 155

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Pe aripi de vise Eliza Segiet CV Translated by Artur Komote Eliza Segiet graduated with a Master's Degree in Philosophy, completed postgraduate studies in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Arts and Literature at Jagiellonian University. Author’s poems Questions and Sea of Mists won the title of the International Publication of the Year 2017 and 2018 in Spillwords Press. Nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2019 (USA, November 2019), Nominee for Naji Naaman Literary Prize 2020, November 2019). Nominated for the iWoman Global Awards 2020 (December 2019) Author's works can be found in anthologies and literary magazines worldwide. Just for a Moment If the world stopped for a moment, I could sit, listen to the silence that becomes, watch how a river stops flowing, how the trees congeal into motionlessness. 157

Parole sulle ali dei sogni If the world stopped for a moment, and I with it? I would not see flowering meadows, where a river becomes just a line, and the still trees look like sculptures, I would not hear the ubiquitous silence. If the world stopped even for one day then people – could not hurt people. Loss It’s not that she has stopped thinking about you. Maybe in your memory she is wan. For her you are still not the meaning of existence, but a warning. A what? What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to her. 158

Pe aripi de vise Apart from the false promises, you gave those days in which you really were. Although she remembers your touch, she no longer believes it was real. Appearance Mantled with understatements, after the years we see that not everything is as we thought. When we were needed they were with us. Now they don’t waste time they leave. Apparent, loyal friends have their own plans. 159

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Crease Is there any sense? Maybe just for a try? Resurrecting friendship is like filling a blown egg. There will always be a gap, void, that will not allow you to return to the state it was before. An attempt may seem to succeed, but the painful crease inside will someday resurrect. Contours Now they don’t need anything from her, they have no reason to call after all she could always manage, and they 160

Pe aripi de vise - are fine without her. Once again, she understood that friendship was an illusion. After the years, she remembers only the contours of outstretched hands in need. Once, the sound of the phone cut through her silence, now - only she remains. Voice She did not want to be invisible, considered the weaker one. She decided to be creative. She began to fight for her freedom and independence. When she came out of her supposedly safe world, she saw the wrongs that are happening around. 161

Parole sulle ali dei sogni She could think, she distinguished good from evil. Now she is fighting for peace, equality and love. She ceased to be just a wife and a mother. She is a woman who regained her surname, and with it shows to the world that a wardrobe full of shoes and skirts is not an obstacle - to have a voice. Silence of Space Sun-filled silence of space completes the longing for youth. Days that were, are within it. In the maze of memories, she found the mistakes she had made. She always expected some ending, a beginning, that something, someone... 162

Pe aripi de vise Now she is enjoying the moment when she can answer with impunity: no! It no longer requires courage. She has grown up to such words. Yes she said for years, now everything has changed. Incomplete In the rocky window they were enfolded by the wind. The Martian landscape of the galactic desert, sun-scorched sand – will be a remembering. Filled with an echo of multi-colored rocks, they are more aware, 163

Parole sulle ali dei sogni to live – one does not need much. Surrounded by artifacts – without memories we will be incomplete. To Have Less In the evening through the alleys seeps the music, Cesária Évora’s voice delights and calms. Joy is painted on the faces. Here everything is: – no problem, – no stress. Sunk in delight, nowhere do they see evil, they do not share time – it is theirs. 164

Pe aripi de vise Tangled problems become nothing. Here they understood that to – have less means to be more. Be Yourself Between the lands, life occurs, under the crystal panel another world. A multi-colored, delightful agitation that one can become part of. For a few moments breathing differently, looking closer, experiencing anew. 165

Parole sulle ali dei sogni In the vastness of the depths underwater magic takes place. Even for a moment, forgetting that our place is above, where breathing in and out do not require thinking. Where the needs are getting bigger. Becoming a fish, compelling admiration, not exceeding one’s own abilities. Just: Be. Be – yourself. 166

Pe aripi de vise Ovidiu Cristian Dinica CV Născut în 1963 în Râmnicu Vâlcea; absolvent al Facultății de Studii Economice din Craiova în 1987; Debut în 1977 în revista Cutezătorii, sub girul lui Ovidiu Zotta; în 1983 în volumul Andra, Mihai Stoian i-a publicat prima poezie. Volume de autor: „Roșu Alternativ”, 2012; „Amintirile toamnei”, 2014; „Vitrina cu Vise”, 2018; „Nevoia de a fi Blând”, 2019. Alte apariții editoriale: Antologia Societății Culturale Anton Pann, Antologia Asociației Scriitorilor pentru Promovarea Realizărilor Artistice, Galați, Antologia Editurii Singur, Antologia Poeților Vâlceni, Cultura Vâlceană, Povestea Vorbei, Nomen Artis, Boema, Oglinda Literară, Semnal, Negru pe Alb, Cronos, Convorbiri Literare, România Literară, Sintagme Literare, Cervantes, Oltart, Luceafărul din Vale, Povestea Vorbei, Taifas Literar. Este prezent online, în publicația electronică Ecreator, a poetului Ovidiu Roșianu, dar și pe Cronopedia, Lituralitate, Negru pe Alb, Însemne Culturale, Noduri și Semene, Agonia, Poeții Noștri. Este membru al „Ligii Scriitorilor din România” și al Societății Culturale „Anton Pann”. Din 2019 a devenit membru UZPR. 167

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Pe când toamna nu murise pe tata l-au dus în sala de operații avea gândurile cu el în ele moartea juca șotronul l-au întins pe pat să-i scoată neliniștea din piept mintea mea se zbătea asemeni unui cobai într-un carusel sub povara tăcerii se deschideau uși era liber la berărie puteai să rumegi cuvintele precum covrigii uscați fără să pui întrebări l-au operat ca și când timpul s-a oprit în loc simțeam că inima tatei nu încetează să iubească 168

Pe aripi de vise Tentaţia până la poartă poți alerga, o singură petală este suficientă să-ți aduci aminte trupul său așa cum lumina te-a ajutat să-l admiri cândva, cu frumusețea, cu tristețea întipărită mângâind răsăritul, întotdeauna ai spus „privirea ce alunecă pe un corp de femeie nu-i un păcat, devine exercițiu de contemplare a creației” te prinde, la timp să-i afli respirația, parfumul dacă neliniștea nu te-ar pierde odată cu simțurile scufundate în propria piele ca într-o apă ce te renaște pentru a scrie cu iubire poemul pe care ea nu-l va citi niciodată. 169

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Bărăganul tractoriștii cu năduf strângeau în palme răsăritul asemeni focului de la mormântul sfânt ce nu arde, scuipau pe nămolul ce le înghițea roțile, își înghițeau țigările arse să nu le curgă pe bărbi uitarea ca un scrum și până nu-și frecau privirea pe posterele cu actrițe apuse nu-și puneau mâinile pe volanul ce le frigea palmele, – mama ei de viață mai spuneau ei iubeau pământul, o iubire neîmpărtășită era copilul lor pe care-l frământau să-l dea pe brazdă, ei erau dumnezeii satului, dădeau rost câmpului, și acesta îi cunoștea ca pe caii bravi ce-l nădușeau zilnic să-i smulgă din adânc promisiunea de rod, nu-l lăsau nici să-și spele rușinea 170

Pe aripi de vise în ploi când seceta îl rodea asemeni unui foc continuu, atunci mai puternic întorceau noaptea pe toate fețele să scoată lumina la suprafață, seara își băteau în hohot de alcool soțiile pentru pricini mărunte, până ce se revărsa iubirea din palmele ude pe țânci strânși în jurul lor ca la iarmarocul lui Creangă îi hrăneau cu tăcerea bobului de grâu. Iubire pe un colţ de rai a face dragoste cu o femeie urâtă ce a pierdut îndemânarea de a urca în copacii de pe umerii tăi să caute răsăritul, să-l soarbă cu ochii tentați de buzele tale uneori dulci, alteori amare precum cafeaua băută de diabetici, care să-și consume ultima picătură de iubire iubindu-te pe tine 171

Parole sulle ali dei sogni zeu mistificat este ca și cum ai plânge de frumusețe pe un colț de rai, acolo unde sfinții își plimbă câinii în lesă, dar care știu că nicio femeie nu este urâtă când o privești în ochi. Oul oul, foc și topire asemeni unui gând răzvrătit într-o vară plină cu seva iubirii dă viață cuvântului, pe un cer nins cu litere de pe retina albastră a nopții, tu nu te grăbi, nu te grăbi fiecare literă va trebui mai întâi cucerită, apoi cuvintele cucerite, într-o veşnică topire din care se naşte poemul. 172

Pe aripi de vise România Cu ochii în viitor am împăturit harta și am pus-o în buzunarul de la piept, să nu mă rătăcesc în țară străină inimii, dintr-o dată în freamătul pădurii au plâns munții, cu zăpezi netopite râurile s-au revărsat ca și cum ar fi grăit tăcerea din necuvinte soarele mi-a curs în inimă, Dunărea mi-a colorat sufletul în albastrul Voronețului, păsările s-au strâns să-mi afle emoția, frunzele s-au adunat lângă copacii doborâți să-i plângă, vântul a răzbătut prin porți de lemn sculptate în memorii, copii cu zâmbetul soarelui pe buze recitau Eminescu. 173

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Baia de sâmbătă mama nu mai are răbdare să citească! o aleargă un crocodil verde cu el vin gândurile negre acestea îi dau târcoale ca într-o vânătoare a nopții, dimineața când cerul este neacoperit crocodilul se ascunde într-un ochi, mamei îi vin lacrimile ce pot umple o cadă ca pentru baia de sâmbătă doar atunci curge și apă caldă. 174

Pe aripi de vise Krishna Prasai CV President, Jara Foundation. Poet, Travel Writer, Storywriter. A postgraduate in Nepali Literature and Sociology. Krishna Prasai made his debut in writing in 1975 with the publication of his poems in Jhapa-based periodical Suryodaya. Originally from Dhaijan, Jhapa and presently a resident of Anamnagar, Kathmandu. Mr. Prasai edited Nepali Samasamayik Kavitahroo, an anthology of contemporary Nepali poetry when he was just 24 years old and exhibited a rare literary talent he possessed. Till date, the works Mr. Prasai has published include Gham Nabhayeko Bela (poems), Ghamko Barsha (Zen poems in Nepali, English,and Korean, later translated into Sinhalese, Hindi, Burmese and Bengali), Prakshepan (stories), Anubhootika Chhalharoo (travel essays) and many other works published separately in periodicals. Mr. Prasai has also edited Chhariyeka Kehi Prishtha (essays) and three other works, besides translating one book. Mr. Prasai is basically known for his Zen poetry and poetry rooted in local Nepali epistemology. Till this date, he has been awarded with Yogi Naraharinath Award, Dharanidhar Koirala Award, UNFPA Essay Prize etc. He is the Chairman of Jara Foundation, and Treasurer of Devkota Lu- Xun Academy, a literary organization. He is also associated with Rotary International. Also, a stakeholder with several other literary organizations, 175

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Mr. Prasai has got his works translated into several languages like English, Korean, Sinhala, Hindi, Assamese, Maithili, German, Burmese, Bengali, Marathi, Guajarati, Arabic, Tamil, Romanian, Philippine, Spanish, Italian, Serbian, Uzbekistan, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, Russian. He has visited coordinated literary and cultural events on behalf of Nepali delegations to countries like India, China, Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Burma, Thailand, Bhutan, Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia, Sri Lanka, UAE on literary and personal missions. He has also hosted several groups of writers visiting Nepal from Korea, Japan, India, Burma, Srilanka, UAE, Bangladesh and China. His contributions towards the expansion of Nepali literature into the international arena have always been commendable. Her love poems are featured on a full page in Haiphong weekend Newspaper, Vietnam, February 13, 2020, translated in Vietnamese language by the famous poet Mai van Phan. She is the only Filipino Poet Representative and A Lifetime Achievement Award has been bestowed upon her on the 12th Guntur International Poetry Festival and Poetry on Wheels held in Guntur Andra, Pradesh and Hyderabad, India September 18-23, 2019. Her Eden Blooms, a bilingual book has been released on this occasion, translated in Telugu Language and published by Dr. Lanka Siva Rama Prasad. Eden translated in the Filipino Language an epic poetry book of Dr. Lanka Siva Rama Prasad, titled The Casket of Vermillion”, this is a legendary story of Sammakka the great Indian lady Tribal warrior which is being celebrated by millions of Indian tribes every two years. She was also chosen to translate in the Filipino Language the 108 Zen Poems a poetry book titled Sun Shower and other long poems of Zen master Krisha Prasai of Nepal, published by Evince Publishing together with her Eden Blooms 2 titled, „Symphony of Souls”. On September 29, 2018, she was one of the top speakers for the International Humanitarian Conference held at the University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana Africa. 176

Pe aripi de vise Sun-Shower The home that I built, My own home where I lived Was a dead thing when I breathed. One day, It cast me out of its doors, Stiff and dead. When the promising youths flew Far away to foreign lands, The spring of my country Faded like a leafless tree. He kept counting bucks As long as living he was, And when to a corpse he turned, His shroud bore no pocket at all! How weak is man! His own photograph Outlives him. As I looked into the mirror It denied ever having known me. Whoever or whatever I am, It never agreed to reflect the truth. 177

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Zen Poems Ang Tahanang aking itinayo, Ay siya ring tahanan kung saan ako nakatira Walang buhay ng ako’y huminga. Isang araw, Ako’y itinaboy palabas ng pintuan, Matigas na at patay. Kapag ang pag-asa ng bayan ay lumisan Patungo doon sa ibayong karagatan Ang tag-sibol sa aking bansa Kumupas tulad ng punong dahon ay nalagas. Wala siyang tigil sa pagbibilang ng pera Habang siya ay nabubuhay At ng siya ay isa ng bangkay Suot na pamburol ay wala namang bulsa! Ang tao’y marupok! Mas tumatagal pa ang buhay ng kanyang larawan. Nang ako ay tumingin sa salamin Itinanggi nito na ako ay kanyang nakikilala Kung sino at ano ako Hindi ito kailanman naki-ayon masalamin ang totoo 178

Pe aripi de vise You Needn’t Suffer Defeat Conditions! There are no conditions to live in life. Enough! Now on don’t talk about following some conditions, I am the relative of the person called you – The compromises you accepted are burning me, All the reins you hold have extremely pained me. If you talk of pain, is there anything that hasn’t pained? When the autumn entered you, my mind ached with Writer, When the Mechi pulls down landslides As I am its kin the Mahakali My body ached a little. Let’s leave the story within the Koshi and the Karnali, We’ll talk about it some other day – I am engrossed deeply now in something else. In the name of tolerance I am worried in my mind About the tortures you have undergone, I feel within me agonies you have suffered through. Not only that; now at this moment Somebody trying to snatch away whole, Somebody conspiring privately Has become Vibheeshan, the mother-killer, The scenes are vividly dancing in me – I am your blood, Wherever does the blood flow, 179

Parole sulle ali dei sogni There can be no borderline beyond my feet and brain. You alone are my source Whom I regard as myself. Therefore, I know that what you are is my heart. Now at this moment I know it too – The rivers of oppression are flowing within you. Carrying pains all over your back You have come forward in the battle Together with your sweat. You are a chopperboard, It’s not me but you know the definition of injuries. I know only this much – You don’t have to suffer defeat, Just a happy smile you show In the early morning will be enough In the crowd of tailorbirds. A single Arjun who has enjoyed your motherly affection Will be sufficient in the eyes of the Kauravs. And... I devoured life everlastingly The journey is going on perpetually, And the destination will go on the same way, Climbing the mountains of suffering, Passing through the pyramids of agonies, And crossing over the alien walls, I am being torn and the journey is widening all the more. I am descending, but it’s ascending up and up, 180

Pe aripi de vise Yes, the journey is ceaselessly on, Where both treading and also being trodden Are just events that occur one after another. I step on it, It presses me down, I trick it to fall down It throws me down. I should have rested my load on the wayside platform By supporting it first with a stick, But no, I have no time to do it. Before I take off my burden It’s impossible to take rest myself While on a journey. The more the mind slips ahead Moving my steps The more the horizon extends Seeing the goal. My goodness! How long is the journey of man – Journey/life, Life/journey! Transforming lanes into blacktopped streets, And standing myself as hunger, I devoured many intersections and crossroads And swallowed several turnings and trails. When limits of tolerance began to dry up, Hillocks of patience started to give way, And the no-confidence proposals crumbled down all over me, 181

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Even then I ate my journey all the time, I guzzled time ceaselessly, And I devoured life everlastingly. The Current Therefore Don’t forcibly trample the present, The tender sprouts of creation. Don’t squeeze and squash them, The natural processes of budding and blossoming Do not disappear ever in vain, The way of creation is That when things are born They are fresh and new, But they go away old. My father explained it to me this way When we migrated last year. Never be rashly bold to stop it even by mistake As it has to run at any cost, It can jump over the wall without breaking through it Or it can break through the wall not leaping over it. Its character is never, never to stop But it would rather dismantle the creation. We are just talking about the current, It’s never like what you think about it, It knows even to turn into a catastrophe, It can pull down the tall trees, 182

Pe aripi de vise The embodiment of cruelty, with branches spread on all sides. You might have heard the story of an earthquake! When defeated with it in its struggle The formidable rocks split to pieces, The mountain crashes down the river And the river Ascends to stand up against the snow peak! Yes, these are its miracles, These are indeed its achievements. Now I too say this: Now on in any way don’t show Your boldness to stop the current, It is time and the time never stops. Its heartbeats are harder than the steels! Its habit is to flow on by breaking through and penetrating deep! Its job is nothing but to go on running! 183

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Pe aripi de vise Deng Zhan, Siyuan CV Tian Yu (23rd, Jan, 1994), pen name, Deng Zhan, name Siyuan. He is the editor and director of the column „Wisdom Of China” of CCTV, the lyricist, the ancient poetry painter and calligrapher signed by Xizhi Paint & Calligraphy Newspaper, and researcher and director of International Society Of Archaeology & Historical Linguistics. He is also the recipient of the coveted Ambassador De Literature from Motivational Strips. A member of Poetry Society Of China, Pen Calligraphy Association Of China, a contract writer of „Chinese Literature”, the Chinese Ancient Poems & Song Poems Society, the Ancient Poems & Hanfu Society Of China, Chinese Cifu Poems Society, Hebei Folk Songs Society, Qingzhao Culture & Art Association, Beijing Writing Society, and Hong Kong Literary Writers Association. His works were published in „Cantonese Style Pomes” of Japan, and he was awarded the excellence award of the 10th Chinese Poetry Conference In Memorial Of Morohashi Tetsuji Of Japan In 2018. He was born in Taishan District, Tai’an City, Shandong Province. 185

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Love is New and Only White Rose's Flower Language, With the impression of silence, I'm old enough to love for always. Your smile appears in my dreams. And I didn't really care that I love you at once. The distance between you and me, It doesn't blur feelings. I also want to restrain my love gradually. I know I suddenly missing you. It's your voice that makes my heart warm again. Otherwise, I don't want to be entangled by love like this. But most afraid of being close to you, Somehow let love hold me tighter to be free. I'm falling in love with you. And gradually I can't control my feelings. I want to turn all sunshine into tender love for you my baby. I'm falling in love with you， And gradually I can't control my feelings. I feel that my love has finally found the ladder to climb， Love is new and only. 186

Pe aripi de vise Each cold night has a lonely man Let the silence of tonight accompanies me. The rain is so cold outside the place. Tonight without you in front of me, I can't touch my heart anyway. The melodies of the night’s echoes are in the heartbroken world. The night's wine isn’t intoxicated by the dusky sentences. The wind of the past seems to haven’t been firmly rooted. The traceless flower has blossomed but lost its memories. Each cold night has a lonely man, Such an endless shower. I just want to ask every light hearts. Can the pain of love go away? Each cold night has a lonely man, Such an endless dream. I just want to ask every light hearts, Is the way of love too ruthless? 187

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Snow-like soul The falling petals are like snowflakes blown by the wind. They landed gently on the ground as if with a sigh. The night was pretty quiet. Everything is beautiful though there is no moonlight tonight. Maybe Everything Was Like A Dream Last Night The street was so blurred in the night. Maybe so， The light of the way out of crime. Passengers in the curtain closed pages were in such a hurry. Maybe as in reality, At the moment, they understand the mood best. Oh dreams, Tens of millions of twinkles last night, Inevitably, 188

Pe aripi de vise It frightens people inexplicably. Oh dreams, Thousands of words touched people last night. What kind of things are always with you? It hurts all of a sudden. After that, if everything is dim? Take time in my hands. Don't let loneliness destroy my life. Maybe everything was like a dream last night. All paid in the sky. Hold the taste in my hands. Don't let bitterness despise me. Maybe everything was like a dream last night. All paid in the sky. The Gentle Wind The gentle wind, Spring seems to love me. Looking at the color in a light way. There has never been any evil. Walking among the flowers, The heart is as clear as a dream. 189

Parole sulle ali dei sogni The gentle wind, Spring seems to love me. Looking at the world in an ordinary way, It adds too much beauty. On the road of familiarity, The heart is as clear as a dream. Like a dream. The wind has a special flavor of spring. Between the breath, Feeling its beauty. The gentle wind, Spring seems to love me. Looking at the color in a light way. There has never been any evil. Walking among the flowers, The heart is as clear as a dream. The gentle wind has a special flavor of spring. Between the breath, Feeling its beauty. 190

Pe aripi de vise The Women Are Just Like the Spring in March The spring is coming to them again, But their hearts can never be clear in this sight. I feel that women are just like the spring in March, Despite the apparent warmth, Who can discover their inner sadness and delight? The spring is coming into their eyes again, They really want to be appreciated but they always failed to be a colorful bride. Each time they stared at the windows alone, No one would ask them what they were thinking about， Maybe was the sorrows to lose their own prides. Just the love they had was hidden in this night, Then they would open their eyes in the quiet of the night, Counting each incident with their gentle heart in white. Just their only pains were hidden in this night, And then they’ll get the breeze move them all, Each always sleepless heart is their most special light. 191

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Let's Accept Our Lives How sweet and painful the life is, The world is so different from the dreams. I always wanted to bring my dreams into the reality, But I’d been hoping for it and it hadn’t worked out since I was a kid . Sometimes I feel that I prefer to live in the comics, And just want to find a free space to blowing the wind, Suddenly I understand that we need to accept our lives with more smiles and happiness. We’re the same, We’re the same, Everyone is the same. We always wanted a place to hide our pieces . We’re the same, We’re the same, Everyone is the same. Had through the wind and the frost, And gave up the feelings, But it’s always unforgettable that the memories of pursuing our dreams. 192

Pe aripi de vise Let's Planting a Pair of Smiling Eyes We met at a night, The scene was familiar, The dreams of expecting the dawn requires love for each other. Let‘s dry our tears with laughter, Let’s nod our heads and walk on, Let's open our hearts and forget about the hurts Though sometimes there‘re farewells along the way, Though our hearts sometimes ache a little, Perhaps this is the ruthlessness of the price. The future of mankind is vast, Just be brave enough to let us go, I believe tomorrow will be bright again. We all know that there‘re many changes on the road of life, Like the grass, You and I are just the shadow of the waves in the sea. Putting your hand on this palm of mine, Let me comfort your memories with a lovely smile. Though the years cannot be turned back, Though all cannot be kept, Although our hearts may have some light sadness. Every time after the gently rains, 193

Parole sulle ali dei sogni It’s just like a rainbow, Let's planting a pair of smiling eyes. The Night And the meteors Out of the window of the quiet night is a group of spirits, On the right are the meteors of yours， On the left is ａ bright moon of mine. The world is so quiet now, There‘s the darkness still blooming, There's a light that's not awake yet to has fun. I confess it, There’re many scenes that aren't lustful. I confess it, There's brewing a lot of determination from all the hopes and lines. The night had come without ａsmile, Setting with silence and cold. May you can look at the bright moon at this time again， May you can wish for the meteors without any doubts or pains. 194

Pe aripi de vise Radosavljević Zoran CV Radosavljević Zoran, Nikole Tesle 22, Trebinje, Republika Srpska, Bosna i Hercegovina. Rođen 1961 godine u Trebinju.Imam 7 izdatih naslova,Dobitnih više međunarodnih nagrada. Tebi jer znam da me voliš tebi koja me ne daš ni onome gore tebi što se za mene boriš i moliš tebi ovo pišem prelepi stvore. Dok ove redove čitaš,ti jedina možeš sve da me pitaš. Tebi bi pričao tako puno a vremena ima malo, da sve u roman stane,zato pusti neka život knjigu piše, i nikada ne zatvaraj korice naše ljubavi. Slutim naša jutra u cvetu latica ruža u kapljici pose u stihovima pesme u mokrim,nemirnim dlanovima Noć ili dan svejedno nam je mi živimo u nadi dok blistaju naše oči u mraku pridji i poljubac mi ukradi 195

Parole sulle ali dei sogni Bol Klanjamo se ljudi... vlastitoj gluposti i bolu... na svojim rukama drzimo preteski mesec... svojim slabim prstima oblikujemo svoje siluete..pravimo sebe da bi se prepoznali... A bol ne boli... boli nada... boli trajanje i dokazivanje... boli ceznja i strepnja..boli vera u nikada i svakad... Kad zatvorim oci i pocnem da te sanjam... Boli... A bol je poseban... jer tada dodirujem nista... imate svukud a nema te nigde... U prikrajku oka te spazim... mozda... tada samo na tren... sam izgubljen izmedju jave i sna... .izgubljen izmedju otkucaja srca i trenutka sna... otezanog disanja... umirem..Jer me boli u samoci i tisini... Bol prekrasna... Bol nezna... A ja nemocan ocim da ti kazem da volim te... da cemo biti cvrsci i jaci i dacemo trajati vecnost... Tebi i meni, dok hodamo... i disemo... ima da trajemo... Mi smo to zrno peska u planini ljubavi... neocekivano... neprimetno... nenadano... na granici jave i sna... Zivimo... Cvet smo ljubavi i plod vremena..saka mesa i casa krvi... stvorismo ljubavnu planinu... od sjaja u oku sto cvili i peni... poslati od zvezda i vetrova... nesvesni svoje srece i radosti... ljubimo se... Bol ne mora da boli... To sapuce tisina... dok posmatramo senke... imamo jedno drugo za pocetak svega... 196

Pe aripi de vise Gabriel Todică CV Fălticeni, jud. Suceava Inginer licenţiat în Automatică şi Informatică Industrială, Iaşi, (1996); Debutează editorial cu volumul „Fălticeni, oraşul celor patru muzee”, Ed. Lidana, Suceava, 2014, continuând cu „Artişti plastici de viziune dualistă” (2015), „Artă duoscopică, interferenţe universale” (2017) publicate la aceeaşi editură, apoi „Drumuri bucovinene” şi „Pelerini în Ţara Dacilor”, Ed. Accent Print, Suceava, 2019. Participă la diverse volume colective şi antologii precum şi la concursuri literare unde a fost şi laureat. Eul lui Abu Omar Un stol de porumbei îşi făcu curajul să se aventureze spre cer. „Un semn bun”, îşi zise Abu Omar, luându-şi sacoul vernil de pe bancheta din spate a maşinii. Revenise în Shaar, această suburbie a oraşului Alep, frumoasa citadelă de altă dată... acum ruine... De când a început războiul aici, în Siria, totul devine ruină... Totul devine nisip, cum din nisip s-a născut... „Ciudată întoarcere la origini” gândi Abu Omar respirând aerul cu iz de pucioasă al urbei. Doar porumbeii îi dădură siguranţa unei linişti temporare. Aveau aceste păsări un instinct al lor, al conservării de sine, ce le permitea să miroase pacea. Şi atunci se aventurau spre văzduh pentru a se hrăni din liniştea 197

Parole sulle ali dei sogni cerului... „Din ce altceva să se hrănească, dacă nu din dumnezeiasca linişte?” spuse Omar mai mult pentru sine, într- un închipuit dialog cu îngerul său. Nu-i răspunse nimeni şi nici nu aştepta vreun răspuns ştiind că vorbele sale sunt doar pentru înger. Şi nici îngerul încă nu-i confirmase supoziţia, fiind înţeleasă de el mai degrabă ca o taciturnă acceptare a raţionamentului său. Pierduse bună parte din colecţia sa de maşini – maşini de epocă – artă pe patru roţi, cum îi plăcea lui să-şi alinte bijuteriile vintage, multe la număr, pentru care investise mult suflet – şi bani – dar aceştia nu aveau atâta preţ cât dragostea investită în rafinamentul unor lucrări de artă. „Banii sunt toţi la fel”, mormăi Abu, căutându-şi pipa în buzunarul sacoului – avea plăcerea de a savura din când în când un tabac bun din pipa sa, atunci când se transpunea într-o visare aproape hipnotică când îşi admira arta – iar gândul la colecţia sa de maşini, acum în parte risipită de prădăciunile inerente ale războiului, îi induse o stare de conteplare, de visare. Pusese multă pasiune în „construirea” acestei colecţii şi se întristase mult atunci când aflase de „ştirbirea” ei... Plânse pentru cele câteva podoabe sustrase... Dar se liniştise atunci când îngerul i-a sugerat că poate în acest fel cineva se va bucura de opera sa... „În acest fel ai împlinit o bucurie pentru cineva care tânjea după acea bijuterie. E o altă formă de a dărui!” Şi Omar se liniştise. Înţelese că oricum ai face, acumularea de avere presupune şi lupta pentru menţinerea ei. Ori tocmai această „menţinere” este o formă de egoism specifică lumii materiale. Spiritul are alte criterii de existenţă, de dezvoltare. Dăruirea este o cale, din cele multiple, prin care sufletul poate accede spre trepte universale... Făcuse asemenea gesturi în mod repetat oferind cadouri către săraci, dar acestea au devenit 198