The Pyre – Part One… Il rogo… Rugul…

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

The motivation of creation is not found in the artist but in his work, so that the work already pre-existed and only the artist knows. The artist sacrifices everything to reveal it. So, being revealed, the work does not feel betrayed, his hiding to be declassified, but revived, materialized, humanized as well as the man, in his turn, is deified, it being the work of the great Creator…
The work invented through comparisons, associations of ideas, hunting for novelty and the impression, is just an exercise; the work revealed by his spiritual form and who moves in object, is true art.
There is a temptation to believe that the work reflects the artist’s soul, a sort of “image and likeness” ethereal. But the artist’s work before his birth there, waiting for him in the incomprehensible nested shells of the sky. Blind, confused, just…

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a comma… una virgola… o virgulă

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

I write the as for first time…
every lyrical intent enter through strings that betrays emotion,
like I write for the mistress
.
each letter, point… increase exaggerated, and raise my hand too far up
me raise up
now, I become as a comma which does not find its place in the strings

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scrivo come se fosse per la prima volta
ogni intenzione lirica entra nelle stringhe cui
tradisce le emozioni come scriverei alla donna amata
.
ogni lettera cresce esagerato, mi solleva la mano troppo in su
solleva pure a me…
ora, sono diventato quanto una virgola, che non trova il suo posto nelle stringhe

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scriu ca şi cum ar fi întâia oară
fiecare intenţie lirică intră în şiruri care trădează emoţia de parcă
aş scrie iubitei…
.
fiecare literă creşte exagerat, îmi saltă mâna prea sus
mă ridică
sunt devenit acum…

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The fifth season… La quinta stagione… Al cincilea anotimp

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages.

Next week, here in Rome, I don’t know if even to you, comes the spring.
Valentine’s Day he will bring with gestures of us all.
Who will remain static, will extend the winter – and if it were even so,
for me it has never been winter but a sort of fifth season irresolute,
a fissure or a threshold, a window through me…
Why should it come the spring if another winter will come along
and everything will be repeated stereotyped? So in the spring, we will return all children… you know?

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photo with Dobri Dobrev

La prossima settimana, qui a Roma, non so se pure da voi, arriverà la Primavera.
San Valentino l’ha porterà con i gesti di tutti noi.
Chi rimarrà statico, estenderà l’inverno – e se fosse così,
per me non è mai stato l’inverno ma una sorta di quinta…

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