do not rush

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

Life is a paper boat in a giant ocean, brings with him a bottle, inside there is a love note, to a shore where the true self serene expect a new beginning.
Even if the boat can sometimes sink too soon, bottle somehow reaches its destination – there is no error and no matter how big is the ocean.
If we think that miracles often happen only to others, we need to look at the ocean around us with the eyes of the soul, not a drop is superfluous
No need to break the bottle to read, curiously, the message …you will not understand, it is written in the language of the heart…
Each of these messages, all together, at the end, will create the new kingdom …
The beginning and the end of the story of the journey of the self ……

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The war of this present

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

In past centuries, there was no generation without participating in the war. The war was a job, a duty and an obligation to the people. 

Today, instead of war are: the struggle of everyone against everyone, and especially against himself; the struggle of the pharmaceutical industry to invent new diseases, then, on the expense of the people, always pretend they that make the healing; the struggle of the producers of consumer products to put chemicals in products in order to profit; the entertainment industry, of mass manipulation, minimizing education of the children and, even more fierce, the battle on the roads, where the man and the vehicle appear to be in a cruel war, the machines killing thousands of people every day.
The fight even more ugly is between the elected and the electorate, the elect are unpunished for their decisions chosen against…

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The taste of the world

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

Colors have the taste, even the sounds have…
The white is dry salty, the blue is bitter cool
Always sweet wood is yellow, purple is metallic and a bit ‘cooked
The green is almost raw, orange aqueous earthy
Red is divided into red salty and spicy red…
Indigo has the flavor of grass and a bit of sickle
I taste the lights replete crushed in spongy mouth…
in the orbits of the eyes well polished with sand and salt
Now run all the colors as if be in a hurry, sneaks inside
consumes me the marrow of dreams
redrawing me for other worlds

il gusto del mondo…
i colori hanno il sapore, anche i suoni hanno…
il bianco è secco salmastra, il blu è fresco amaro
sempre dolce legno è il giallo, il viola è metallico e un po’ cotto
il verde ò…

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Beyond us

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

We live beyond ourselves
The steps cannot be made ever to one in the other
The gift requires a receiver, we cannot give ourselves
Even the cuckoo, does not sing for himself, is listened of the soul of Earth
How do you think you can love without being entirely in the other?
We live beyond, and this beyond starts right here
You feel that kiss your eyes when they read here…

Di là di noi
Viviamo oltre a noi stessi
I passi non possono essere fatti mai l’un nell’altro
Il dono richiede un ricevente, non possiamo dare a noi stessi
Neanche il cuculo non canta per se stesso, lo sta sentendo l’anima della terra
Come pensi che si possa amare, senza trovarsi interamente negli altri?
Viviamo al di là, e questo al di là inizia proprio qui
Senti che bacio i tuoi occhi…

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Mute dialogues…

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

The light turns to liquid; you enjoy and drink from the eyes of the sweetheart as an ocean
its salt transforms to you too in salt
Who loved at least once his body burned as an offering… – said the poet
When the flame of love, the oblivion it lights his a cigarette, the smoke you throw it in your eyes
and you think you are enveloped by the warmth and splendor while you are the ashes – waggish said
one who loved himself, as it should love the neighbor…
The statues look in an ironic silence a pair of lovers, the light increase, naturally…

Dialoghi muti…
La luce diventa liquido, tu godi e bevi dagli occhi dell’amata come un oceano
il suo sale ti trasforma anche a te in sale
Chi ha amato almeno una volta ha il suo corpo bruciato come…

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convergent solitudes

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

The bad loneliness is when you are terribly hungry and
you realize that forgot the Creator to draw on your face a mouth and look,
the meal is rich
The worse loneliness is when you have a mouth like the sky; you’re entirely just a mouth
and nowhere is any meal
The terrible hunger of itself it makes you imagine that you’re a god for whom nobody
never brings sacrifices

Solitudini convergenti
La cattiva solitudine è quando si è terribilmente affamati e
ti rendi conto che ha dimenticato il Creatore per disegnare sul viso una bocca e guarda,
il pasto è ricco
La peggior solitudine è quando si ha una bocca quanto il cielo, sei interamente soltanto una bocca
e in nessun luogo è alcun pasto
La terribile fame di se stesso ti fa immaginare che sei un dio per il quale nessuno

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Descents

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

You’re putting too many questions and
Life will respond in joking as she did not understand the question…
Emerges the blade of grass on his chest bared of the white from shirt by snow already forgotten
The insects smile, the winds are sharpened their razors as barbers
You ride on the window as if it were a mare without grooming and would like to sift through the world, but
The questions it hold you back, you want at least one answer, just an answer
Where go those who they go?…the impossible retrieval stuns and …dismounts the mare…

Discese

Ti stai mettendo troppe domande e
La vita ti risponde in scherzo come che lei non ha capito la domanda…
Emerge il filo d’erba sul petto snudato dal bianco della camicia di neve già dimenticata
Gli insetti sorridono, i venti si affilano i loro rasoi…

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Not enough parallel worlds

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

Insomnia sharpened in delusions and mystics failures.
Letters biodegradable make a tridimensionalization a word-being that
disgusted, leaves the sheet.
Hermits, the hands of the writer, swimming in milk and a shoreline not exist.
Worlds bewildering of real it born and die between commas and exclamation points.
Something’s in the air imminent – the spaces are converging…
The poet is saved by label of crazy, only the narrator climbs to the scaffold.
A heretic court sentenced him for killing the characters of his books,
the rope of ink tenderly wraps him, the chair that it overturns is
the unique object of the viscous reality, where readers sleep with the book in hands…
Next day will live complete indifference the news that another writer is dead

Mondi non abbastanza paralleli

Insonnie affilate nei deliri e mistici fallimenti.
Lettere biodegradabile tridimensionalizando una parola-essere che,
disgustata, lascia…

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One kilogram of God please…

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

Parents, sick birds, children, birds with wings unfinished
Aspirations induced, false, a huge waste of enthusiasm when
everyone always believes, erroneously, that no one was born at the right time.
Generations of parents remained children, and their children born mature…
No one wants to accept that justice is a spiritual matter
everyone wants to jump in along the steps on the social ladder, at least in twos,
and the illusion of the jump to be measured only with access to consumption
The poor are fighting among themselves; the waste of blood enriches the soil from the rich…
Yet the rich are fighting each other with more fervor, but the collateral victims are always the poor…
Some fight of boredom, naivety or herd instinct, others for the need of well, no one initially defining the concept…
I think the biggest mistake was to exhort…

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Miracles wasted

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

We are only mills that grind the stones of time.
The powders we use then in the drawings on the sky, it seems to us the prayers.
We increase the Nothing, giving him auras of importance.
We cast away the facts and aspirations that could have saved us, we expect miracles until what…
Comes as a hiccup or a raised of eyelid, last wonder –
Only then can we perceive the substance of the time and that, in fact, the stones had gnawed the mills.
And the wind was our breath wasted, the unnoticed miracle…

Siamo soltanto dei mulini che macinano le pietre del tempo.
Le polveri le usiamo poi nei disegni sul cielo, sembrandoci delle preghiere.
Aumentiamo il nulla, dandogli aure d’importanze.
Neghiamo i fatti e le aspirazioni, che potevano salvarci, aspettiamo i miracoli fino a che…
Viene come un singhiozzo o…

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