![\"13737576_1717516951835114_1119003395636951653_o\"](\"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/13737576_1717516951835114_1119003395636951653_o.jpg\")
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Z\u0103pada iepurilor<\/strong><\/p>\n 1 Toate acestea au r\u0103mas de mine departe, Nicio durere nu m\u0103 \u00eencearc\u0103, N-a trecut vremea pentru mir\u0103ri, Nu m\u0103 mai mir dac\u0103-mi r\u0103sar \u00een fa\u021b\u0103 m\u0103\u0219ti r\u0103t\u0103cite, Toate se-nt\u00e2mpl\u0103 a\u0219a ca s\u0103 existe un sens, De-aceea, nu te mira c\u0103 nu-\u021bi vorbesc <\/p>\n acum toate r\u0103d\u0103cinile pulseaz\u0103 \u00eentr-un orizont imposibil \u00een pomul vie\u0163ii doar florile \u00eenceputului Pentru aceasta, cresc al\u0103turi de voi, C\u00e2nd vine vremea, firul de nisip se \u00eentoarce-n lumin\u0103.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n -selec\u021bie realizat\u0103 de Nu\u021ba Istrate Gangan-<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Z\u0103pada i…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[28],"tags":[],"coauthors":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-v7","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1929"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1929"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1929\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1962,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1929\/revisions\/1962"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1929"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1929"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1929"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=1929"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nZ\u00e2mbesc ad\u00e2ncurilor. Poate \u0219i ierbii. Cine \u0219tie,
\n\u0103sta s\u0103 fie norocul iepurilor!
\nPoate c\u0103 mersul pe v\u00e2rfuri presupune un
\naccent \u00een plus. Grav. Boante sunt cuiele frigului,
\nde se opresc la suprafa\u021b\u0103, s\u0103 p\u0103streze c\u0103ldura pa\u0219ilor t\u0103i.
\nAcum, sentimentele au ochi de
\niepuri. Ne privesc sfioase de dincolo de z\u0103pad\u0103.
\nEste ceva! Poate chiar mai mult de at\u00e2t.
\nPoate frigul s-a \u00eentors pe partea cealalt\u0103,
\nuit\u00e2nd pentru ce-a fost trimis. Devine
\nrisipitor \u00een r\u0103ceala-i suprem\u0103. Docil.
\nInduce \u00een lume un tremur prelung.
\nLini\u0219tit, z\u00eembesc ad\u00e2ncurilor.
\nOare \u0219i ierbii \u00een care se pierdeau iepuri albi,
\nr\u0103ni\u021bi de str\u0103lucirea soarelui?
\n2
\nZorile au ceva din mersul t\u0103u pe v\u00e2rfuri, \u00eenaintea
\n\u0103stei amiezi ce sose\u0219te \u00een grab\u0103.
\nParc\u0103 ar vrea s\u0103 descrie, vizibil,
\narcuri de cerc de-a latul p\u0103m\u00e2ntului.
\nDac\u0103 zilele \u0219i-ar pierde ritmul,
\narcu\u0219ul ar sc\u00e2r\u021b\u00e2i pe corzi mult sl\u0103bite,
\niernile s-ar topi \u00een cuptoarele verii,
\nentuziasmul ar fi doar un supliment inutil
\npentru pasti\u0219ele care nu-\u0219i mai recunosc modelul.
\nUndeva se ascund iepurii, de nu-i mai vezi, bat\u0103-i norocul!
\nRepede, s\u0103 nu-i loveasc\u0103 pustia de
\niarn\u0103. Sfio\u0219i, odat\u0103 cu pa\u0219ii t\u0103i
\nluneco\u0219i, odat\u0103 cu z\u00e2mbetul t\u0103u pierdut.
\nOare z\u0103pada iepurilor are ceva din
\nrana pe care o face luminii \u00eenghe\u021bul din privirea ta?<\/p>\n
\nDespre cele ce sunt<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nNu te mira c\u0103 nu-\u021bi vorbesc
\ndespre pocnetul castanelor pe trotuar, –
\nde\u0219i nu-i at\u00e2t de rar toamn\u0103 \u00een mine – ,
\ndespre lucruri \u00eencremenite \u00een sine,
\ndespre cele luminate doar pe jum\u0103tate,
\nc\u00e2t s\u0103-\u0219i mai \u021bin\u0103 umbra aproape.<\/p>\n
\nca ni\u0219te ecouri \u00een\u0103bu\u0219ite-n regrete,
\nca ni\u0219te uli\u021be pr\u0103fuite pe care
\ndoar b\u0103iatul cu p\u0103rul b\u0103lai
\ns\u0103-mi petreac\u0103 nostalgiile de mai t\u00e2rziu.<\/p>\n
\nsemn c\u0103 \u0219i lini\u0219tea aceasta na\u0219te pui vii de lumin\u0103;
\nnicio c\u0103rare nu \u0219i-a clintit \u00een\u021belesurile,
\ndirec\u021bia bun\u0103 are sens interzis pentru iluzii.<\/p>\n
\nn-a sosit aceea a pr\u0103bu\u0219irii \u00een sine;
\na\u0219teptarea va fi totdeauna toiag risipirilor,
\npulsul memoriei, mai viu dec\u00e2t secunda abia dep\u0103\u0219it\u0103.<\/p>\n
\nnici dac\u0103 oameni de paie \u00ee\u0219i macin\u0103 vremea la moara iluziei;
\nbucuria de-a fi nu intr\u0103 nicidecum \u00een \u0219abloane,
\nnici moartea nu cre\u0219te la fel \u00een amurguri de oameni.<\/p>\n
\nfie \u0219i \u00een dezastre neprev\u0103zute de astre,
\npentru ca trecerea noastr\u0103 s\u0103-\u0219i lase urma de melc
\n\u00een suflete care nu vor \u00eenceta s\u0103 tr\u0103iasc\u0103 fiorul atingerii.<\/p>\n
\ndespre pocnetul castanelor pe trotuar;
\n\u00eenchide-mi, mai bine, o vreme, ecoul,
\nspre-a-l deschide \u00een ultima toamn\u0103.<\/p>\n
\ngr\u0103dina \u00eenceputului<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nau p\u0103truns \u00een miez
\npovar\u0103 t\u00e2rzie<\/p>\n
\narome dinaintea c\u0103derii<\/p>\n
\nDevenire<\/strong>
\nNu cred \u00een r\u0103scolirea p\u0103m\u00e2ntului \u015fi-a cerului.
\n\u00cemi place echilibrul care nu \u00eenseamn\u0103 nici stagnarea lucrurilor \u00een miez,
\nnici egoismul materiei de-a se \u00eentoarce \u00een sine.<\/p>\n
\n\u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103tor ca o mare senin\u0103.<\/p>\n
\nC\u00e2nd tr\u0103darea a\u015fteapt\u0103 dup\u0103 col\u0163<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nRupi o sc\u00e2ndur\u0103 din paravan,
\no faci \u0163\u0103nd\u0103ri,
\naprinzi cu ele un foc.
\nApoi chemi un fluture de smarald,
\npotrive\u015fti peni\u0163a \u00een pozi\u0163ia mir\u0103rii
\n\u015fi te miri,
\na\u015fa, ca prostu’
\nc\u00e2nd d\u0103 cu flit
\nunor unde triste rev\u0103rsate din bucium,
\npe care le sim\u0163i p\u00e2n\u0103-n sinusuri,
\ncum o adiere a mor\u0163ii
\nlunec\u00e2nd printre sunete vii.
\nNu este aici vreun demers ezoteric,
\nnici iluzia c\u0103 e\u015fti
\nvreo \u0163and\u0103r\u0103 \u00eendep\u0103rtat\u0103 de trunchi.
\nNu \u015ftii s\u0103 sari dec\u00e2t at\u00e2t
\nc\u00e2t \u00ee\u0163i este vremea,
\ndintr-o latur\u0103 \u00een alta,
\n\u015fi din izbire afli
\nc\u0103 v\u00e2n\u0103t\u0103ile \u015fi cucuiele
\nsunt pece\u0163i ale cerului
\nimpregnate \u00een piele,
\niar vindecarea presupune
\nie\u015firi permanente din sine.
\nUrmeaz\u0103 recompunerea \u0163\u0103nd\u0103rilor
\n\u00eentr-o alt\u0103 alc\u0103tuire,
\ndup\u0103 chipul celui ce-a dat
\nm\u0103sura \u00eenalt\u0103 a suferin\u0163ei.
\nAscul\u0163i acela\u015fi bucium tumultuos,
\n\u00eentr-un geam\u0103t de stele.
\nPaharul e plin.
\nDup\u0103 col\u0163,
\nun Iuda \u00ee\u015fi num\u0103r\u0103 argin\u0163ii.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n