Izbucniri

“Cu câte iluzii trebuie să mă fi născut ca să pot pierde câte una în fiecare zi!…” – Emil Cioran

Tag: soul

You are my everything

I look at you and see a queen
I look around and see nothin’
I look at you and see the world
You are my shield, you are my sword

I look inside, deep in your eyes
And then, my soul begins to rise
You are my one and only flower
You are the main source of my power

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Nu există moarte / There is no death

Se spune că la început au fost create sufletele, după care, fiecărui om i s-a distribuit câte un exemplar. Eu nu cred că există moarte. Cred, mai degrabă, că ne săturăm de sufletul primit și îl lăsăm liber.

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It is said that, at the beginning of the world, the souls were created and then, each person got one. I don’t believe that death exists. I rather think that we get bored with our souls and we let them free.

 

Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu

The portrait of a poet

A poet is not just a person. He is a mix of two persons – him and his ego. A poet doesn’t beg for mercy or attention, doesn’t ask for love or admiration and doesn’t expect nothing from the others. A poet is quiet on the outside, no matter what kind of war his soul is battling in. A poet respects the nature, a poet loves the environment’s simplicity, a poet can hear the shouts of the souls surrounding him.
A poet’s face is burnt by the shadow of the tears he allowed to drain from his eyes. A poet’s face is full of wrinkles, because of the turmoil inside his soul.
And still, his soul remains pure. A poet can not make any harm to anybody, he can not blame no one for his own feelings, he doesn’t even ask for compensations. He remains there, stuck in his own world, with his only friends – his hand, the pen and the paper. A poet accepts his doom. A poet is more than just a single person.

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