![\"22447615_486472185043813_981847554_n\"](\"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/10\/22447615_486472185043813_981847554_n.jpg\")
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*<\/p>\n
frumuse\u021bea nu e un act de voin\u021b\u0103 al florilor
\nspectacolul e al p\u0103pu\u0219arului de neg\u0103sit
\n\u0219i noi c\u00e2nd ne uit\u0103m unul la altul ne mir\u0103m
\n\u0219i \u00een mirarea noastr\u0103 ne \u00een\u0103l\u021bam
\n\u0219i \u00een \u00een\u0103l\u021barea noastr\u0103 p\u0103pu\u0219arul se ascunde
\n\u0219i ne \u00eentoarcem pe dos
\n\u0219i copiii ne \u00eenfig cu\u021bite \u00een inimi
\ns\u0103 ne probeze vivacitatea
\n\u0219i dac\u0103 murim ei nu vor \u0219ti dec\u00e2t atunci
\nc\u00e2nd cu\u021bitul se va \u00eentoarce \u00een trupul lor ca o lege
\nde aceea
\nde aceea cre\u0219tem ne inmul\u021bim \u0219i umplem p\u0103m\u00e2ntul
\n\u0219i totul e o tain\u0103 iar tainele nu sunt mai mult dec\u00e2t un strig\u0103t
\nstrig\u0103tul repetat al singur\u0103t\u0103\u021bii de a fi
\n*
\nlucrurile \u00eencep pentru mine
\npentru c\u0103 eu am acces la cuvinte
\n\u0219i \u00een mine revolu\u021biile sunt tinere
\n\u0219i p\u00e2inea pe care o m\u0103n\u00e2nc e p\u00e2inea pe care o fr\u00e2ng
\n\u0219i muntele pe care \u00eel mut e al m\u0103slinilor
\n\u0219i credin\u021ba pe care o sting e a focului
\nnu exist\u0103 \u00een afara noastr\u0103 nimic doar un v\u00e2nt
\ncare ne arunc\u0103 unul \u00eentr-altul \u0219i in moarte
\nstoarce-m\u0103 vidule stoarce-m\u0103 s\u0103 fiu ca tine
\nc\u00e2nd m-au \u00eembl\u00e2nzit m-au a\u0219ezat pe o tabl\u0103
\n\u0219i m-au f\u0103cut \u0219uruburi \u0219i \u00eencuietoare \u0219i jet
\n\u0219i m-au numit fiin\u021ba sclipitoare din soarele de la apus
\n\u0219i m-au tr\u0103dat cu m\u00e2na pe dragoste
\n\u0219i m-au \u00eenchis \u00eenc\u0103 o dat\u0103 \u00een min\u021bile lor
\neu am r\u0103sarit diminea\u021ba fir de iarb\u0103
\n\u0219i m-am rupt singur\u0103
\n\u0219i m-am l\u0103sat s\u0103 zbor<\/p>\n
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\nsoarele e alb scufundat pe jum\u0103tate
\n\u00een \u00eentunericul meu fizic interior
\ne noapte. \u021bin ochii \u00eenchi\u0219i
\na\u0219a pot observa soarele \u0219i vortexul
\ncare \u00eemi transmite semnale luminoase
\n\u00een ora\u0219 intri prin oameni
\nuneori po\u021bi vedea ca ora\u0219ul este din aur
\neli e mic c\u00e2t o molecul\u0103
\nhr\u0103ne\u0219te cu o jum\u0103tate de alun\u0103 to\u021bi porumbeii din parc
\nau trecut \u00eengerii au \u021bipat m-au \u021binut de m\u00e2n\u0103
\nmi-au dat \u0219i mi-au luat
\nnu \u0219tiu s\u0103 metaforizez
\nsunt o insign\u0103
\nm\u0103 joc cu termina\u021biile literei
\n\u00eentr-o zi \u00eemi amintesc de tata
\nc\u0103l\u0103torea \u00een arabia pe o c\u0103mil\u0103 \u00eembr\u0103cat \u00een beduin
\nnaviga pe mare \u00een spatele unei testoase uria\u0219e
\ndin arabia mi-a adus un glob de cristal cu ap\u0103 \u0219i pe\u0219ti\u0219or \u00een\u0103untru
\nrobert mi-a spart globul
\nnu mai am nimic de la tata
\ncuv\u00e2ntul politic\u0103 m\u0103 face curioas\u0103
\ncuv\u00e2ntul sabat m\u0103 satisface
\nsunt un om bun \u00een descompunere
\npe cale s\u0103 devin\u0103 un om \u0219i mai bun<\/p>\n
*
\nsuntem singuri singuri mai singuri dec\u00e2t bacovia
\nmai singuri dec\u00e2t toamna care e ceva singur
\nmai singuri dec\u00e2t ne imagin\u0103m singur\u0103tatea
\n\u0219i asta nu e o situa\u021bie penibil\u0103
\nnici dramatic\u0103
\nat\u00e2t de naturali de singuri
\n\u00eenc\u00e2t pas\u0103rea care rupe cu ciocul
\ndin sufletul nostru fragil
\no numim aproape
\nzicem c\u0103 e frig
\nzicem c\u0103 plou\u0103
\ndar singur\u0103tatea e invizibil\u0103
\n\u0219i nu ne-ar r\u0103m\u00e2ne dec\u00e2t
\ns\u0103 ne d\u0103m foc
\ndar ce rost
\ntoate lucrurile \u00een sine sunt singure
\ndumnezeu \u00eensu\u0219i locuie\u0219te \u00een singur\u0103tatea noastr\u0103
\nca o singur\u0103tatea mai mare
\nne l\u0103s\u0103m \u00eenghi\u021bi\u021bi de maternitatea lui
\na\u0219a ajungem s\u0103 ni se par\u0103
\na\u0219a ajungem s\u0103 nu mai \u00een\u021belegem nimic<\/p>\n
selec\u021bie realizat\u0103 de NIG – Nu\u021ba Istrate Gangan<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" *<\/p>\n frumuse\u021bea nu e un act de voin\u021b\u0103 al…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1,28],"tags":[],"coauthors":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-xO","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2096"}],"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=2096"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2096\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2098,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2096\/revisions\/2098"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2096"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2096"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2096"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=2096"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}<\/p>\n