A mirror

“Do you know what you are?

You are a manuscript oƒ a divine letter.

You are a mirror reflecting a noble face. 

This universe is not outside of you. 

Look inside yourself;

everything that you want, 

you are already that.”

Rumi

Autumn

Унылая пора! очей очарованье!
Приятна мне твоя прощальная краса —
Люблю я пышное природы увяданье,
В багрец и в золото одетые леса,
В их сенях ветра шум и свежее дыханье,
И мглой волнистою покрыты небеса,
И редкий солнца луч, и первые морозы,
И отдаленные седой зимы угрозы.

A melancholy time! So charming to the eye!
Your beauty in its parting pleases me -
I love the lavish withering of nature,
The gold and scarlet raiment of the woods,
The crisp wind rustling o'er their threshold,
The sky engulfed by tides of rippled gloom,
The sun's scarce rays, approaching frosts,
And gray-haired winter threatening from afar.
A.S.Pushkin

State of the soul

Landscapes is a journey of return to one's innermost being.
S. Dali

Summer garden

Я к розам хочу, в тот единственный сад,

Где лучшая в мире стоит из оград,

Где статуи помнят меня молодой,

А я их под невскою помню водой.

В душистой тиши между царственных лип

Мне мачт корабельных мерещится скрип.

И лебедь, как прежде, плывет сквозь века,

Любуясь красой своего двойника.

И замертво спят сотни тысяч шагов

Врагов и друзей, друзей и врагов.

А шествию теней не видно конца

От вазы гранитной до двери дворца.

Там шепчутся белые ночи мои

О чьей-то высокой и тайной любви.

И все перламутром и яшмой горит,

Но света источник таинственно скрыт.

I crave for the roses and garden my best,
That’s clad in the best in the word airy fence.

Where statues remember me youthful and blessed,
And I – them all covered by Neva’s cold waves. 

In silence, so fragrant, amidst limes of kings,
I hear: the ship's masts are squeaking in swings.

And sails the white swain through the ages again,
Enjoying the charm of his brother-of-twain.

And deadly sleep hundreds of thousands steps
Of friends and of foes, of foes and friends.

And the train of shadows has no the end
From vase’s granite to the palace of grand.

There whisper each other my white nightly skies
Of somebody’s love, very secret and high.

And all shines with jasper and pearl in the night…
But nobody knows a source of the light.

A. Akhmatova

A minute

Хороша эта женщина в майском закате,
Шелковистые пряди волос в ветерке,
И горенье желанья в цветах, в аромате,
И далекая песня гребца на реке.
Хороша эта дикая вольная воля;
Протянулась рука, прикоснулась рука,
И сковала двоих - на мгновенье, не боле,-
Та минута любви, что продлится века.

How fine is this woman in the May dawn’s attire,

Her a-waving silk tress in the flows of wind,

And the rover’s far song on the river behind.

And in flowers and scent burning passionate fire,

How fine is this freedom in wildness and glory:

There, a warm arm is stretched – there, is touched a warm arm…

And the both are chained – for a minute, no more –

By that minute of love that’ll be endless in Time.

K. Balmont

Sun's Golden Arc

Sun’s golden arc
Hot like a red coal,
Sent down its spark
And it warmed my soul;
Although, I am not sure
Now, I hope that I could
Expect from my future
To bring something good;
The warmth brought me back
To life, the light illuminated me
I forgot the past, all that I lack
And all that is lacking in me.
Warmed by the Light
My blood caught fire,
My soul shined, alight
My spirit was inspired.
I feel restored by the ray,
My heart still beats stronger,
These good feelings are here to stay
Even when the sun shines no longer;
On the trip I am forced to make
Love goes with me from the start.
It banishes anguish, fear and ache
And it gives freedom to my heart.

S. Esenin

River walk

Herculane 2012

Dreaming

God would have never given to the human being the capacity of dreaming with open eyes unless in its inner universe did not exist a latent capacity that could allow its dreams to become true.

Gregorian Bivolaru