- Trecerea Timpului peste unduirea de Izvor a pietrelor,ca limpezirea palmelor,asezate in fata jgheabului,de unde va curge Izvorul.Cadere lina ,cristalina,adaugata,numarata in clipe,ca trosnetul genunilor in Intuneric.Fi-va ecoul Inceputului,adaugat Timpului,Adanc descoperit de umbre,care nu se schimba.Fi-va clipa adaugata peste pietre,ca un taciune ars,o licarire inflacarata,cazuta din inima Muntelui.Pornisem din zori spre creasta,sa ascult ecoul clipelor,ascunse ca intr-un tunel,in pieptul meu.Sa ascult,asezata cu genunchii stransi,pe o buturuga,cum inima mea bate,ca aripile soimului,inaltandu-se tot mai sus,in zbor rotit.Picaturi de roua,aduse sagalnic de vantul hoinar,ascunse printre muguri,se aseaza timide pe palma mea,in semnul Izvorului,ingemanand,ca niste lacrimi ascunse,trecerea Timpului.Si,parca,nimic nu e ascuns aici,privind nemarginirea,caci inima mea,ca o pasare speriata,cu trupul obosit,se odihneste,hranindu-se,cu clipele aduse-n zbor,pe aripi,plapande clipe,cazand ca picaturi de roua,in Abis.Privesc Izvorul,si-ascult acum,prin ecoul dintre stanci,fosnetul Padurii.Si,parca,Timpul s-a oprit,sa asculte trecerea undelor de aer,printre mugurii brazilor,si,parca,picaturi,pastrate cu grija in cupola mugurilor,primesc acum metamorfoza,pregatind,cu grija,sufletul meu,pentru Marea Calatorie.Cobor in vale,sa-mi pun talpile fierbinti pe pietrele ude si reci ale Izvorului,sa petrec,cu palmele,unde cristaline,adunand,in taina,ca o mireasma,farmecul povestilor spuse de bunica,atunci cand,luand fusul in mainile-i trudite,se uita cu atata caldura in ochii mei,incat intregul loc se transforma,ca pe o poarta nevazuta,Timpul,in locul minunat,pe care,copil fiind,inca nu stiam ca poate fi pecetluit cu lacrimi,ca niste picaturi de roua,in Trupul Ielelor frumoaselor,Izvorul Cuvintelor,pregatit de la inceput.
- Passage of time over waving stones,that rinse palms,placed in the right gutter,where it will flow spring.Gentle fall,crystalline,added,numbered in the moments that tick abyss in darkness.Will be echoing the beginning,added Time,Deep shadows discovered not change.Will be moment,added over rocks,like a canker burned a fiery glimpse,fallen from heart of the mountain.Start from dawn to ridge,to hear echoing moments,hidden,as in a tunnel in my chest.Listening,sitting with knees raised on a stump,as my heart beats,that hawk wings,rising higher,turned-in-flight.Drops of dew brought mischievous,the wanderer wind,hidden among the buds,shy sits on my hand,in sign of Spring,gathering,like hidden tears,over time.And,if nothing is hidden here,the infinite,for my heart,like a scared bird the tired body,resting,feeding on moments,brough-in-flight,the wings,fragile moments,falling like dew drops in abyss.I look the spring,listen now,the echoing of the rocks,the rustle of the forest.And,if,time stopped,listening waves of air passing through the leaves of trees,and,if,drops,carefully preserved in bud dome,now get metamorphosis and prepared with care my soul,to the Great Journey.Pass into the valey,to get my hot feet,on wet and cold stones of the fountain,to watch with palms,crystal waves,gathering in secret as a fragrance,charm stories,told by grandma when taking spindle into her weary hands,looked into my eyes with so much warmth,that the entire place is transformed,as an unseen gate,at the wonderful place,that as a child still did not know that can be sealed with tears,like drops of dew,on body of Beautiful Elves,Spring words,prepared from the beginning.
