{"id":10868,"date":"2015-10-30T23:34:30","date_gmt":"2015-10-30T21:34:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=10868"},"modified":"2015-10-30T23:34:30","modified_gmt":"2015-10-30T21:34:30","slug":"poeme-de-svetlana-corobceanu","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=10868","title":{"rendered":"poeme de Svetlana Corobceanu"},"content":{"rendered":"

Ma\u015fina mor\u0163ii<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

am ajuns s-o vedem \u015fi pe asta<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

oamenii \u2013 ni\u015fte piuli\u0163ie<\/p>\n

m\u00e2inele lor \u2013 c\u0103ngi ag\u0103\u0163\u00e2ndu-se de via\u0163\u0103<\/p>\n

ochii – g\u0103uri<\/p>\n

prin care te extinzi ulei pe suprafa\u0163a unui motor<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

imagini sordide<\/p>\n

sub cer ca \u00eentr-o cutie \u00eentre arbori<\/p>\n

gr\u0103mezi de fiare arz\u00e2nde<\/p>\n

\u00eenving\u0103torul, cu \u00eensemnele dragonului pe bra\u0163<\/p>\n

\u00ee\u015fi face o imagine dou\u0103<\/p>\n

sprijinit \u00een patul armei<\/p>\n

cu moartea pe fundal<\/p>\n

el victorios<\/p>\n

un clik \u00eenso\u0163it de un chiuit de bucurie<\/p>\n

imagini care vor face \u00eenconjurul lumii<\/p>\n

\u00eenc\u0103 nu \u015fi-a pierdut min\u0163ile<\/p>\n

iat\u0103 r\u0103zboiul despre care voi nu \u015fti\u0163i nimic, ar vrea s\u0103 spun\u0103,<\/p>\n

iat\u0103 moartea<\/p>\n

creieri pe asfalt \u00eencins, o balt\u0103 de s\u00e2nge<\/p>\n

visele din care am adus p\u0103m\u00e2ntul s\u0103 se adape<\/p>\n

din \u00eentuneric<\/p>\n

ca pe un bivol<\/p>\n

p\u00e2n\u0103 aici<\/p>\n

l-am \u00eempins<\/p>\n

iat\u0103-ne \u00eenving\u0103torii \u2013 pe grumazul lui<\/p>\n

noi \u2013 st\u0103p\u00e2nii<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

am ajuns s-o vedem \u015fi pe asta<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

la televizor<\/p>\n

tot mai hot\u0103r\u00e2t<\/p>\n

apare chipul acestui politician nefericit<\/p>\n

ce crezi<\/p>\n

e pe cale s\u0103 declan\u015feze un nou r\u0103zboi mondial<\/p>\n

am aflat c\u0103 au ap\u0103rut noi ma\u015fini \u015fi arme<\/p>\n

existen\u0163a c\u0103rora nici m\u0103car n-o b\u0103nuiam<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

exist\u0103 crematorii mobile<\/p>\n

te bag\u0103 \u00eentr-un cilindru<\/p>\n

exist\u0103 un centru de comand\u0103<\/p>\n

butoane ro\u015fii verzi<\/p>\n

ape\u015fi<\/p>\n

\u015fi ceea ce m\u00e2inele unei mame au modelat cu mult\u0103 migal\u0103<\/p>\n

trupurile<\/p>\n

noastre, aceast\u0103 arc\u0103 a lui noie cu flori \u015fi fluturi<\/p>\n

se transform\u0103<\/p>\n

\u00eentr-o urn\u0103 de cenu\u015f\u0103<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

am ajuns s-o vedem \u015fi pe asta<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00eensetat\u0103 de noi izvoare de s\u00e2nge piar\u0103 gura dictatorului de sete<\/p>\n

ochii dictatorului cad\u0103 \u00een ad\u00e2nc<\/p>\n

putrezi<\/p>\n

ca perele<\/p>\n

de pe o creang\u0103 uscat\u0103 \u00een miez de prim\u0103var\u0103<\/p>\n

s\u0103 nu-l \u0163in\u0103 picioarele<\/p>\n

nici sforile<\/p>\n

piar\u0103 p\u0103pu\u015farii<\/p>\n

s\u0103 se sting\u0103 ca rugul sub o avers\u0103 de ploaie<\/p>\n

piar\u0103<\/p>\n

ca de un glonte<\/p>\n

\u00eensetat de lumin\u0103<\/p>\n

s\u0103 se sting\u0103<\/p>\n

ca de \u00eempuns \u00een inim\u0103 de<\/p>\n

o s\u0103geat\u0103<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

voci<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103, visez izvoare de s\u00e2nge<\/p>\n

privirea evit\u0103 gura izvorului \u2013 o ran\u0103<\/p>\n

sf\u00e2rcul unui glonte \u00eenfipt \u00eentr-o arter\u0103<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

dimine\u0163ile doresc moartea dictatorului<\/p>\n

cel care ar putea \u00eembutelia s\u00e2ngele ca pe ap\u0103 mineral\u0103<\/p>\n

remarc\u00e2ndu-se cu bog\u0103\u0163ia acumulat\u0103 \u00een cer<\/p>\n

o oaste de suflete t\u00e2njind c\u0103 nu \u015fi-au tr\u0103it vie\u0163ile p\u00e2n\u0103 la cap\u0103t<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00een astfel de momente<\/p>\n

fiecare zi valoreaz\u0103 mai mult dec\u00e2t precedenta<\/p>\n

dec\u00e2t m\u00e2ine<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

raiul pe p\u0103m\u00e2nt e<\/p>\n

strig\u0103tul de bucurie al unui copil absorbit de joac\u0103, remarc\u0103 cineva<\/p>\n

e a\u015fchia unei raze de lumin\u0103 \u00eenfipt\u0103 \u00een podul palmei, sare un altul<\/p>\n

\u00een timp ce prezic\u0103toarele \u00ee\u0163i vorbesc despre o nou\u0103 iubire<\/p>\n

iat\u0103, se despic\u0103 cea\u0163a, \u00ee\u0163i spun<\/p>\n

\u015fi doi ochi negri ca murele<\/p>\n

se apropie<\/p>\n

prin apele limpezi ale timpului<\/p>\n

o nou\u0103 dragoste pe aproape, sim\u0163i<\/p>\n

dac\u0103 nu azi m\u00e2ine, dac\u0103 nu m\u00e2ine, poim\u00e2ine<\/p>\n

am \u00eent\u00e2lnit-o la ie\u015firea din tren<\/p>\n

pe cea care avea s\u0103-mi devin\u0103 so\u0163ie<\/p>\n

mergea \u00eencet<\/p>\n

nu p\u0103rea s\u0103 se gr\u0103beasc\u0103<\/p>\n

nici s\u0103 cread\u0103 c\u0103 m\u0103 cunoa\u015fte<\/p>\n

de\u015fi era ea<\/p>\n

v\u0103zut\u0103 prin apele timpului (dac\u0103 nu azi m\u00e2ine<\/p>\n

dac\u0103 nu m\u00e2ine poim\u00e2ine)<\/p>\n

a\u015fa cum mi-au prezis vr\u0103jitoarele, ce mi-au \u00eenfipt lumina ca pe o a\u015fchie \u00een podul palmei<\/p>\n

picioarele lungi despicau \u00eentunericul<\/p>\n

frumoas\u0103 – un tablou<\/p>\n

z\u00e2mbea \u00een mijlocul peronului<\/p>\n

peste care s-a \u00eentins t\u0103cerea mea de acas\u0103<\/p>\n

de parc\u0103 traversele trenul<\/p>\n

toate ar fi dat busna \u00een odaia-mi<\/p>\n

un ceas str\u0103in mi-ar\u0103ta ora exact\u0103<\/p>\n

p\u00e2n\u0103 la care am a\u015fteptat-o<\/p>\n

i-am z\u00e2mbit, i-am vorbit ceva, i-am luat geanta \u015fi de atunci o lume nou\u0103<\/p>\n

mi-a dat busna \u00een suflet<\/p>\n

la atingere \u2013 real\u0103, o lume care \u00eenc\u0103lze\u015fte, frige, adev\u0103rat\u0103<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ma\u015fina mor\u0163ii   am ajuns s-o vedem \u015fi pe asta   oamenii \u2013 ni\u015fte piuli\u0163ie m\u00e2inele lor \u2013 c\u0103ngi ag\u0103\u0163\u00e2ndu-se de via\u0163\u0103 ochii – g\u0103uri prin care te extinzi ulei pe suprafa\u0163a unui motor<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1098,13],"tags":[1099,1114,1178],"class_list":["post-10868","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-44","category-poezie","tag-egophobia-44","tag-poezie","tag-svetlana-corobceanu"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-2Pi","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10868","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10868"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10868\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10869,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10868\/revisions\/10869"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10868"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10868"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10868"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}