O poză,

Paradisul unde eu mă aflu

"No rain has ever touched its arid face

A desolation bleak and full of misery

Whose dunes drown men as surely as the sea

Abode of worms, a land bereft of grace"

Arrakis- Goya Solidar

"Over here sand blows; over there sand blows.

Over there a rich man waits; over here I wait."

-from the Oral History

Desfac palmele;

din braţele zefirului

culeg sunetul mării

Lumina unei flori

Da un nou sens vietii

MAKro

O ardem glorios ca exorcistu-n izmene

Cu o mie de probleme sau doar sparti de lene

Nu punem capac, bai nene-i prea devreme

Scopul nostru declarat e sa generam migrene

O lebada scapase din inchisoarea ei

Si se tara pe labe in praful de pe strada

Spre-o balta-nchipuita ducandu-si pasii grei

In alba ei podoaba cu aripi de zapada

Lebăda - Charles-Pierre Baudelaire

Ti-ai zidit mainile.

Mainile tale,

cu degete blande si triste,

cu gust de patima

si miros fierbinte de tutun ud.

Mainile tale.

...

De ce ti-ai zidit mainile

atat de adanc in mine?

M

"He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream, and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days, a boy had been with him.

But after forty days without a fish the boy's parents told him that the old man was now defininitely and finally "salao", which is the worst form of unluck."

Sa continuam cu Hemingway.

For Whom the Bell Tolls.

He lay flat on the brown, pine-needled floor of the forest, his chin on his folded arms, and high overhead the wind blew in the tops of the pine trees. The mountainside sloped gently where he lay; but below it was steep and he could see the dark of the oiled road winding through the pass. There was a stream alongside the road and far down the pass he saw a mill beside the stream and the falling water of the dam, white in the summer sunlight.

"Is that the mill?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I do not remember it."