Poems by- Nicolae SILADE
everest
„To be, or not to be, that is the question”
William Shakespeare
I
tom harvey won a porche 911 carrera gts sold it and won another one in two days
a woman from austria bought dresses off the internet and got a 500.000 euro drug package
mayor jorge luis escandon was forced out of the town hall his hands tied with rope and dragged by a lorry on the streets
of santa rita because he didn’t keep his electoral campaign promises meaning he didn’t repair a local road in the town
a young woman from romania marvelously beautiful offered herself to the rifleman
after her boyfriend was caught driving with no license
this is the world we now live in
i sit here on the shore of cerna in a 4 x 4 room with a fridge in a corner a heater in the other and watch a netflix movie
nextdoor is ceaușescu’s residence where he never lived but oh my god what parties with hookers would his pals throw there
from time to time i go outside on the terrace to have a coffee a cigarette and i look
at the ruins over the road ruins of posthumanism I tell myself
a wallnut leaf falls down at my feet i lift it up and study it carefully then i let it go down the stream
this water has been flowing for thousands of years i tell myself
these mountains have been standing motionless for thousands of years i tell myself
what is better
to flow or to stand
petrified like mihai eminescu’s statue
or restless like the crowd that walks to and fro on the red bridge
II
the chirping of birds is enough to bring you to reality the murmur of a stream flowing ceaselessly a sun ray seen from behind a snowy mountain after a night that lasted milleniums and it is like a spring that comes for the first time like a return to the paradise from which you banished yourself and you begin to see begin to hear god’s voice through the trees in the garden that is how you start with a
return to yourself after wasting yourself on worldly matters climbing the everest within you people yes people as carl sandburg says are walt whitman’s leaves of grass pascal’s thinking reeds they sand wonders until there is nothing left of them they veil simplicity under a pile of trinkets it is not easy to give up on them but for a meeting with
god it’s worth it giving up on yourself to win yourself back and people yes people want to be richer than others more
powerful than others more advanced than others higher than others i haven’t seen people who want to be kinder than others more loving than others wiser i haven’t seen people who want to be more humane than humans and no
you don’t have to climb the everest to be on top of the world you have to conquer the everest within you to be and to begin to be when you begin to understand and your beggining is the beggining of the world and is like a spring that comes for the first time in this petrified world where you are movement itself in this moving world in which you stand as still as the statue of mihai eminescu
III
early in the morning long before dawn
when public lights are to be turned off at six o’clock and they turn off precisely at six o’clock
when the horn of the moon still hangs from the white cross of the domogled like a gingerbread cookie in the christmas tree
when on the path of the forest a white cat rummages through the withered leaves of last summer
when wastemen bang the garbage bins full of yesterday’s powder and dust and remains
when rays of light rise like a miracle over the mountain tops nearby
when the birds start chanting their morning mass
and the murmur of the water makes itself heard yet again
when you wake up to reality and see
that reality is not what can be seen
when between thought and sight
there stands the miracle that makes you be
when you have to choose
between the work of man
and the work of god
when you find out that the surroundings are your brother
and father and surrounding son
why keep on waiting for the sunrise
when the sunrise of the world is you
IV
then i saw myself climbing up and down 55 steps daily going in a spiral down the stairs of a suburbs block of flats among the screams of joy of restless children’s & the misery of old men turing within and without myself more and more revolted exulted on the staircase i saw myself climbing up and down between
sunrise and the day’s happy ending to admire the happy man’s work to admire lord’s work i saw myself in room 9 the new room from the new residence near the spring where romans are still passing by with dacian women and queen mary and empress sissi and king charles the first i saw myself at the yellow pavilion the green foyer on the spring street on chestnuts street
between the birth of the blessed virgin mary church and the transfiguration of jesus church walking up and down the shore up and down and up and down going to the seven springs up and down towards the sea the great sea on the two roads that lead to a yellow forest yes the golden forest of robert frost down the road winding through rocks up the road winding through firs towards the bandits’ cave
i saw myself turning into a bandit and coming back from doing what a bandit does I spend the night in women’s beds they come in my bed I saw myself being don juan don quijote and in rostov-on-don and king and clown and tall and small and naive wise pharaoh and budist emperor proletarian and jew and communist the earth’s most beloved son and the most loving yes I saw myself because in each of you I see myself
V
like a „v” from victory where all the wonders of the worlds gather like in a cornucopia
like a „v” from victory doing a 180 like a pyramid from the top of which the sun rises
this stone from the vertex of the angle this pyre on fire that burns without going out it burns without going out
this is how this rock on which i build my house on is
my house of words
what did you think?
that I like your summer palaces your guarded citadels your castles from spain
i prefer living in a cave a hut an igloo in uncle tom’s cabin
in the icy hotel from bâlea lake in a countryhouse or a waste land
in a 4X4 room with a fridge in a corner and a heater in the other
on the shore of a mountain river or the seaside
i prefer living inside myself
and if you see me in rome paris istanbul
in the sixtin chapel on champs elysees or in saint sophia church
if you see me in vienna new york or moscow
in prater manhattan kremlin
if you see me in cairo atena beijing
at the pyramid of cheops in the temple of zeus or the forbidden city
if you see me in the doge’s palace in corvin’s castle
or in the people’s house
why can you not see me in myself
VI
„Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.”
Dante Aligheri – The Divine Comedy
around here there are always covered wagons roman war chariots soldiers emperors and empires clouds of dust rising from the ground behind them dust and powder them passing by deianeira and hercules and the centaur nessus ulisses and penelope zalmoxis and burebista decebal and traian antony and cleopatra alexander the great and stephan the great michael the brave and suleiman the magnificent the widow emperess and marie therese
homo sapiens homo habilis homo erectus dust clouds rising from the ground behind them dust and powder them passing by the homosexuals androids lesbians the most powerful men the most beautiful ladies pioneers young communists of today adult communists of tomorrow the secret police force the bolsheviks the nazis and fidel and stalin and che the old and the new boyars the red plague the black plague the white death nihil novi sub sole
high-end cars the end of high-end cars an auto show with the vintage automobiles opel mercedes audi ferrari bmw volkswagen lamborghini tesla toyota honda hyundai chevrolet kia nissan dacia mitsubishi ford subaru citroen peugeot clouds of dust rising from the ground behind them dust and powder theim passing by electric automobiles flying taxies planes and birds and angels and gods
around here everything and everyone passes around here even the passing itself passes why would I give away cerna’s valley for a walk in the bronx nera’s quais for a short vacation in manhattan my skyscrapers are these beautiful mountains wonderful mountains the carpathians with their peaks in longing bucegi făgăraș parâng retezat and forget-me-not like a star rising in the heart of the mountain and the snows of yore that come again like a miracle in the everest within me
VII
at the foot of the mountain there is a church a white church the church of transfiguration
near the church there is a river that digs in stone and makes its way through the rocks
i have never seen a greater sculptor than the river that digs in stone and makes its way through the rocks
on the other side of the river there is a white villa
the villa of the doboșan family ion and sofia doboșan
100 years ago they donated it to the diocese to be a rest house for priests
and out of 24 rooms the priests made 40 and the communists transformed them into a hotel
[forgive me for this little tale but I want you to see
how through the meanders of a grand gesture
god in his great kindness
always does justice]
after the revolution the villa ended up in the care of the diocese again
as sofia and ion doboșan wanted
and the comunist hotel with 40 rooms
became a dwelling for 40 nuns
and throug the care of holy priests the chapel was sanctified
and through the care of the lord it became a monastery
monastery celebrating the birth of the holy virgin mary
now
between the birth of the blessed virgin mary churchand the transfiguration of jesus church
i walk along the river that digs in stone and makes its way through rocks
and it is as though I assisted to the rebirth of holy mary and i witness the transfiguration
