- Am lasat usa bisericii deschisa si-am pornit grabita spre Izvor.Ca un pelerin,mirosul de tamaie ma insoteste pe drum.Se strecoara in preajma mea pentru a pecetlui amintirile,lucrurile,Calatoria si Locul.Din Munte s-a pornit un freamat de vant uscat.Am pus o candela in traista.Ca o cetate asediata,Padurea isi cheama Aparatorii.De la Portile Rasaritului s-a pornit un zvon cum ca lucrurile stiute nu vor mai fi.Fiara infometata da tarcoale Izvorului,ca sa zdrobeasca ciupercile.Purtata de vantul amiezii,zadarniceste drumul spre apa al caprioarelor.La chemarea Cerbului,Ciutele speriate isi croiesc drum prin Padure.Bat cu copita in locul ramas gol.Acolo am sa pun candela aprinsa.Frunze arse de caldura se aseaza tacute in frunzis,ca un avertisment.Ciocarlia s-a ascuns si nestiuta,isi curata hainuta.La strigatul Vulturului va porni ca o sageata-n sus,spre Soare,ca sa-i smulga Toiagul.Ielele frumoasele vor statornici din nou Anotimpurile,pe care Fiara a vrut sa le ascunda-n stanci cand a zdrobit ciupercile.Isi vor incrucisa bratele peste Padure,se vor zvoni si se vor rostogoli ca ciulinii,chicotind si imbrancindu-se pana la Maracinis.Vor lovi cu Toiagul in pamantul mocirlos si vor alunga Fiara.Prinzand in palme Toiagul,imi amintesc de o dimineata de vara cand bunica mea stropea florile-n gradina.Aceasta amintire si lucrurile pe care le-am pastrat din ea sunt ca binefacerea pe care o facea ori de cate ori venea la noi cu bratele incarcate de flori.
- I left the church door opened and I started to hurry spring.As a pilgrim,the smell of incense accompanying me on the road.Strain in to seal around Me memory,things,travel and The place.From the Mountain has started a dry rustling.I put a candle in my bag.As a city besieged,Forest calls his defenders.From the Eastern Gates has started a rumor that the known things would not be.Hungry beast,roaring the Spring,to crush mushrooms.Worn by the afternoon wind,water foiled way to the deer.In calling the Deer,scared Hints make their way through the forest.Hoof knock instead remained empty.There I was put candle lit.Leaves sit silent heat burned the foliage,as a warning.The skylark was hidden and unknown,his coat clean.On Eagle"s cry will start as an arrow up to the Sun to grab him The scepter.Beautiful Elves will settle back seasons beast wanted to hide in the rocks when he crush the mushrooms.They will cross their arms over Forest,will be rumored as thistles and will roll over,giggling and being shoved up the briers.They strike with the rod in the marshy land and will banish the beast.Catching rod in my hands,I remember one summer morning when my grandmother sprinkling flowers in the garden.This memory and the things I kept from it are like a blessing that she did,whenever came to us with arms full of flowers.
