AS IN A CONCH,PEARLS

Fell over stones rocks from heights-tight,

in stream ,water waves whirling-hiding at the lip-of spring.

Gathered tingly and withered-the leaves,frosting leaves-in the moonlight.

Like a myrrh,moments-thoughts,

they put on their shoulders the signs-signs,brought by the wind.

As in  a conch ,pearls-moments fallen in my heart,

as in a herbarium ,the memories-charming memories,parchment,embalmed.

AS THE CHILDISH SHADOW OF THE WORDS

I gathered in my heart candor-of love,pearls,
diamonds hidden among the leaves,soft berries,with touch-of vellum.

I wear on my shoulders passing of the years,that old walnut in the garden-of grandparents,
encrypted shadows on the leaves,the seasons-lovely painting,
with strong perfume and discreet,my beautiful words.

As the flight-of turtle doves were shaken leaves,scattered themselves,
and much farther for walnut,
covering like a coat-of elves,childish shadow of the words.

Much closer to Heaven eyelid,beauty inside-heartbeat,
is heard as an echo-vaulted sky over the carpet leaves.

I gathered beauty,for the time that has remained-as beads  on a sheepskin coat with cunning work.

Distracted by leaves,a kindly fire,lit with dry twigs,
a touch -of cold wind.

As drops-of water from the jug,
stardust scented berries-soft memories,
as the childish shadow of the words...I gathered.
 

WILL LEAVE THE BIRDS

Is laid hoard frost among the grass...will leave the birds.

In flying arrows they start to fly to warmer places...will leave the birds.

Hidden in story will overshadow paths,
my steps will hide under a silver veil...preserved moments,
as doves with hidden wings.

Moments-the moments remaining in my heart untouched,fragrant,playful.
Moments-the moments from early childhood,
hidden in a glove.

They fly...the birds,bringing with them the moments...in passing sign.

Frosting little stars will adorn the branches...forgotten moments-the moments,
hidden under a golden carpet-of frosting leaves.

My steps,they stopped into the night,
wasting my fear as the cries-of birds,
moments-the moments...of love,
kept in hand-here at the gate Time.

THE NECKLACE FANTASIES OF AUTUMN

Silver stars of star dust and reddish rays brought by the wind,
woven like a precious canvas from the crown of the sun...silver stars ,they caress the twigs.

Over the Earth,delayed Autumn,
has placed her brown veil with white frost,embroidery of elves...fresh-in the air,kept-waves,
like deep in the woods-the paths,fluffy,barely-glimpsed,
a maze ray-gray,dense,misunderstood.

I wasted in the fragrant air,
like a tree his perfume branches,
wasted my thoughts,
seeking for the path that as a child,I hid it in a story...

Silver pearls beads ,scattered in a box for toys,
silver pearls scented,like the feeling remained in my heart.

Caught like a bead in a necklace fantasies of Autumn,
put my forehead near the first tree branches met on the road and wait,
as in a prayer,
beautiful words to caress my heart.

A FAN OF COLORS IN SUNLIGHT OF THE MORNING

A fan of colors in sunlight of the morning,...a fan of colors,
impressive as a fresh greeting sent from the heavens on Earth.

A rainbow of colors especially in the morning,...light.
Has crept through a curtain,made his way  close to my heart.

Cross my breath and open my eyes,
in heart is coming the sky...and pray.

As a mystery that has left,a pearly veil,
sweet memories,like pearls,
as walnuts broken in the porch.

Nuts,with white and fragrant core,
nuts,hidden into fists,
sweet nuts,fragrant as veils Autumn left on the fields,...bitter-memories.

Ripe nuts,beaten with the wood,...nuts,
which fell through the grass,...nuts.

At it seems that Autumn was hiding in my heart,
looking for his way back home,
and it seems that memories collected in the summer,
have passed like a tear,
closed in my heart,...a myrrh.

Fresh morning,wonderful rainbow,
a fan of colors set with tenderness in my heart...

It snowing.
white frost of silver stars stopped in my palm...a kiss,
the first snowflakes of snow...veil -of rainbow.

IT IS THE LEAF

It is the leaf,as a clam printed in the ruby...in my palm,
as the sun in twilight,a rainbow hidden stars.

It is the leaf,as a heart that still beats...vibrating silently with the wind-the thought,nearer the earth.

It is the leaf,as a mystery hidden among rocks...whispering with moss,colorful words.

It is the leaf a gentle prayer...frosting silver pearls-beautiful words.

Hidden among the grass,as a shinning shadow...it is the leaf,
embrace in the morning light...the trust.

In the night,she split off,as a beetle,from a budding thread of bluish rose...buds,
like the sky in twilight,shy,sweet as a kiss.

It is the leaf,as the good...the spring whispered her yearning...hear heart,the spring.

It is the leaf,like a ruby diamond-heart,enriching the cloak of roses.

In my palm,as the sun in twilight,a rainbow hidden stars.

CA NECTARUL-LIKE NECTAR

• Stand in asteptare,ca trandafirii si dovlecii,pere frumoase,tamaioase,adunu-n miezul lor,statornicia Anotimpurilor.In Vale,Roata Olarului se-nvarte-ncet.Din pietricelele de la Izvor,macina usor seminte transparente,bune pentru plamadeala.Apoi pune cate-un strop de apa,inmiresmata de aerul proaspat al diminetii.Apa pe piatra si piatra pe apa,asa se face Urciorul.Chiar si muntii cei carunti cu Cerbul,s-au invrednicit de Roata Olarului.Sa se statorniceasca langa matca Izvorului,oricat de instrainati ar fi.Sa asculte Vanturile,sa primeneasca picaturile de roua care se aseaza tacute pe tulpina ferigilor,care ascund,ca o taina, necunoscutele comori ale Padurii..Seceratorii fluiera in munti,de la un capat la altul al Pamantului,in diminetile in care nici macar zborul sagetat al vrabiilor nu se face auzit.Doar saltul lacustelor printre firele de iarba mai amintesc de trecerea lor.Asez Urciorul langa buturuga.Facut de mana Olarului ca sa adaposteasca Harta cu drumurile si placuta argintata cu Legile,va fi ascuns de piatra stancilor,in tropotul cadentat al Cerbului,pana la chemarea Izvorului.Ca o para tamaioasa ascunsa tainic de cupola catedralei in sunetul transparent al clopotelor,asa s-a desavarsit si Urciorul Olarului.Gustul acesta este atat de placut ca nectarul florilor de pe camp,amintind parca trecerea clipelor,atunci cand Timpul isi aseaza haina alaturi de rugul cu trandafiri,ca sa se odihneasca.
• Stand waiting as roses and pumpinks,pears beautiful muscadine,gathered in their core steadfastness Seasons.In Valley.the potter's wheel-spinning slowly.From gravel to the spring,transparent dust grains easily grind good dough.Then put each one drop of water,fresh fragrant air of the morning.Water on stone and stone water,pitcher is so.Even those gray mountains with deer,were worthy of the potter's wheel.To settle near Spring stock no matter how estranged they are.To listen to the winds,to renew the dew drops that sits silent on stem ferns,that will hide as a mystery the unknown treasures of the forest..Reapers whistle in the mountains from one end to another of the Earth,in the mornings even sparrows flight is not heard.Just jump through the blades of grass locusts now remember their passing.Pitcher sit near stump.Potter's hand made to shelter the road map and silver plate laws,will be hidden by stone rocks in rhythm clatter of deer,up to call Spring.As a muscadine pear,hidden in mysterious dome of the cathedral bells sound transparent,so it was perfect,Potter Pitcher.That taste is so nice as the nectar of flowers of the field,reminding passing moments like when Time sits with rose bush to rest.