{"id":10870,"date":"2015-10-30T23:40:45","date_gmt":"2015-10-30T21:40:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=10870"},"modified":"2015-10-30T23:40:45","modified_gmt":"2015-10-30T21:40:45","slug":"poeme-de-dan-danila","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=10870","title":{"rendered":"poeme de Dan D\u0103nil\u0103"},"content":{"rendered":"

At\u00e2t<\/strong><\/p>\n

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

Mireasa b\u0103tr\u00e2n\u0103 cu lacrimi de chihlimbar<\/p>\n

a\u0219tept\u00e2nd s\u0103 se termine r\u0103zboiul albastru,<\/p>\n

doar ea a mai r\u0103mas din rudele mele bogate,<\/p>\n

batista de\u0219irat\u0103 ca un poem f\u0103r\u0103 \u00eentoarcere,<\/p>\n

un v\u00e2nz\u0103tor de r\u0103va\u0219e cu parfum \u00eendoielnic.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Miri\u0219te a uit\u0103rii la marginea abia b\u0103nuit\u0103,<\/p>\n

ghimpi negri, aproape bolnavi de asimetrie,<\/p>\n

dar cerul, ce str\u0103in cu aerul venit de departe,<\/p>\n

copil\u0103riei palide, m\u00e2ncat\u0103 de bruma anilor,<\/p>\n

de praful ora\u0219ului care se devor\u0103 prea lent.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

O simfonie neterminat\u0103 \u00een secolul potrivit<\/p>\n

s\u0103 mai vindece urechile reci ale groparului,<\/p>\n

criv\u0103\u021bul tot mai cald din febrele milenare<\/p>\n

adus \u00een les\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 la marginea catacombei<\/p>\n

s\u0103 ling\u0103 obrazul expus \u00een vitrina femeilor.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Totu\u0219i<\/strong><\/p>\n


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

Mai sper sub colinele iluzorii ale anarhiei,<\/p>\n

l\u00e2ng\u0103 zidul cu toamn\u0103 t\u00e2rzie, de nic\u0103ieri,<\/p>\n

nu departe de adev\u0103rul bolnav al caz\u0103rmii<\/p>\n

s\u0103 apar\u0103 iar silueta familiar\u0103 a pelerinului<\/p>\n

pe care doar ale\u0219ii din agora o vor vedea.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

S\u0103 morm\u0103ie salutul poliglot, poleit cu aur,<\/p>\n

ca un fum care \u00ee\u0219i caut\u0103 cerul de rezerv\u0103,<\/p>\n

s\u0103 ne z\u00e2mbeasc\u0103 ironic, cu totul deoparte,<\/p>\n

expir\u00e2nd \u00eentre dou\u0103 silabe sau sperieturi<\/p>\n

\u00eentr-o tr\u00e2mbi\u021b\u0103 muiat\u0103 de fluidul proasp\u0103t<\/p>\n

radiografia \u00eendur\u0103rii, osul sudat de vreme.<\/p>\n

\u00cenainteaz\u0103 cu grij\u0103 \u0219i pleoapele de plumb<\/p>\n

pip\u0103ind muchia zidului ca o pisic\u0103 neagr\u0103<\/p>\n

salvarea cet\u0103\u021bii eroilor, cel care danseaz\u0103<\/p>\n

ca s\u0103 nu vad\u0103 caldar\u00e2mul arid, du\u0219m\u0103nos.<\/p>\n

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

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

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

C\u00e2ntec urban
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pulsul unei zile se m\u0103soar\u0103 abia de m\u00e2ine,<\/p>\n

\u00eenc\u0103 mai vibreaz\u0103 corzile care se vor rupe<\/p>\n

(de grindin\u0103 topit\u0103 suntem mai \u00eempov\u0103ra\u021bi<\/p>\n

deodat\u0103 \u00een zonele mai fragile ale existen\u021bei.<\/p>\n

Pe coridorul sanatoriului cu miros de urin\u0103<\/p>\n

o procesiune de b\u0103tr\u00e2ni cu c\u0103m\u0103\u0219ile albe \u0219i<\/p>\n

deasupra lor mii de fluturi de noapte) dup\u0103<\/p>\n

Rainer Maria Rilke durerea se simte altfel,<\/p>\n

mai intim\u0103 dec\u00e2t cea mai profund\u0103 spaim\u0103.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Recviem interzis pentru o sinucidere lent\u0103<\/p>\n

\u00een anonimatul metropolitan, unde str\u0103zile,<\/p>\n

dac\u0103 ar c\u00e2nta ar apropia \u0219i ultimul trec\u0103tor.<\/p>\n

Be\u021bivul iube\u0219te c\u0103ldura capacelor de canal,<\/p>\n

mai solidar cu fermentul puturos al pubelei<\/p>\n

dec\u00e2t ceilal\u021bi parazi\u021bi cu joben \u0219i limuzin\u0103,<\/p>\n

doar un vid de putere l-ar profila \u00een martir.<\/p>\n

Cineva pl\u00e2nge sau c\u00e2nt\u0103, cu aburi \u00een gur\u0103.<\/p>\n

Muzicu\u021ba cer\u0219etorului \u00een fa\u021ba unei biserici<\/p>\n

acoper\u0103 orga, rezoneaz\u0103 cu bronzul coclit<\/p>\n

al inimii civilizate, gata s\u0103 devin\u0103 tandr\u0103.<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

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

Minune<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Prin lemnul transparent v\u00e2ntul trece u\u0219or,<\/p>\n

aleg un alt anotimp pentru seara aceasta:<\/p>\n

port \u00een spinare dorul t\u00e2rziu de noiembrie,<\/p>\n

balastul meu vibr\u00e2nd ca un pa\u0219nic motor.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fumul scrisorilor urc\u0103 pe iederi albastre,<\/p>\n

privesc numai desenul zidului ca s\u0103 uit,<\/p>\n

un bunic cu medalii a plecat cam departe<\/p>\n

respir\u00e2nd zgomotos printr-o pip\u0103 de lut.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sub aripi am scris acest cuv\u00e2nt aplecat,<\/p>\n

iar\u0103\u0219i zboar\u0103 dragonul \u00een scorbura goal\u0103,<\/p>\n

am uitat s\u0103 cobor, s\u0103 dau drumul la c\u00e2ine,<\/p>\n

s\u0103-mi a\u0219tern cerul gol ca o ultim\u0103 coal\u0103.<\/p>\n


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

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

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

\u00a0Pentru ea
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

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

M\u0103 prefac \u00een proletar de trei schimburi<\/p>\n

dar am o carte sub c\u0103ma\u0219a englezeasc\u0103<\/p>\n

smuls\u0103 de pe rugul aprins ast\u0103 noapte<\/p>\n

ca un pumnal neruginit printre sonete<\/p>\n

\u0219i r\u00e2nduri tremurate de marea oboseal\u0103.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Am o via\u021b\u0103 dubl\u0103, cu totul din nedumeriri<\/p>\n

\u0219i morfin\u0103 nediluat\u0103, greu de procurat<\/p>\n

ca s\u0103 trec testul detectorului de minciuni<\/p>\n

prin abandon de sine, ce departe de mine<\/p>\n

sunt pentru lini\u0219tea ei \u2013 nu m\u0103 a\u0219teapt\u0103<\/p>\n

\u00eenainte de un deceniu printre emigran\u021bi<\/p>\n

dar iubind ea amintirea \u00een care am loc,<\/p>\n

revin, plin de sudoare \u0219i s\u00e2nge, vizibil<\/p>\n

dac\u0103 m\u0103 strecor odat\u0103 cu seara, ho\u021be\u0219te.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At\u00e2t \u00a0 Mireasa b\u0103tr\u00e2n\u0103 cu lacrimi de chihlimbar a\u0219tept\u00e2nd s\u0103 se termine r\u0103zboiul albastru, doar ea a mai r\u0103mas din rudele mele bogate, batista de\u0219irat\u0103 ca un poem f\u0103r\u0103 \u00eentoarcere, un v\u00e2nz\u0103tor de r\u0103va\u0219e cu parfum \u00eendoielnic.<\/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":[1179,1099,1114],"class_list":["post-10870","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-44","category-poezie","tag-dan-danila","tag-egophobia-44","tag-poezie"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-2Pk","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10870","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=10870"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10870\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10871,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10870\/revisions\/10871"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10870"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10870"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10870"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}