Stories

Time

POSTED IN Stories December 31, 2016

Vorbe

POSTED IN Stories November 14, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vorbe

Luna sangerie, luna insomnie,
luna aroganta, luna nebunie,
far’ de mila ast’ noapte mi-ai trudit pleoapa,
m-ai lovit cu raza-ti ca pe-o luntre apa.

Stralucesti in ochii Timpului hlizind,
ne privesti in leagan, ne privesti murind.
Ai speriat cocorii inlemniti in Toamna.
Te credeam o tandra. Te credeam o Doamna.

Ai tipat la Noapte. Stelele sfiite
s-au ascuns prin nouri, crunt dezamagite.
Te-au slavit preamultii pan’ te-au plictisit.
Vlaguit cuvantul cade-n infinit.

Vrei noi epitete spre-a te sti eterna.
Da un “search” pe Google: fii si tu moderna!
Iti vei crea astfel o identitate
noua, pentru noua ta eternitate.

Au murit lunaticii, care altadata
iti cantau iubirea la un colt de strada.
Mistuiti in graba de un duh prea rau,
au schimbat in poster ieftin chipul tau.

Nu mai esti misterul: unica, reala.
Esti clonata intr-o lume virtuala.
Make-up de duzina photoshopping firea,
ti-a manjit lumina. Ti-a furat lucirea.

Cineva in viata asta efemera
stie ca mania-ti nu va fi lejera.
Omenirea din acest minut nu-i buna.
Ti-a urlat ast’ noapte: “Fa-ti un selfie, Luna!”.

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

Oratie de nunta / Wedding chant

POSTED IN Stories, translated Romanian-English April 3, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oratie de nunta

Infloriti, flori, infloriti
ca mie nu-mi trebuiti,
ca voi cand imboboceati
mie-atunci imi trebuiati!
Infloriti, flori, infloriti!
Infloriti flori, stati parete
ca eu mi-am iesit din fete!
Plangeti ochi si lacrimati
ca voi sunteti vinovati
ca ce iubiti nu lasati
si ce vedeti nu uitati!
Cat sunt tineri se jucara
doi cu doi nu se luara.
Cat sunt tineri se iubira
doi cu doi nu se-ntalnira.
Foaie verde foaie lata
cand eram la maica fata
stiam floarea cum se poarta.
Of, foita de susai
dupa ce ma maritai
dupa usa-o aruncai.
……………………………..
Wedding chant

Blossom, flowers, blossom roar!
I don’t need you anymore,
only when your buds were new
then I would have needed you.
Blossom, flowers, blossom roar!
Blossom, flowers, like a wall
my hair girl covered by shawl!
Cry my eyes, be dried by tears
for the guilt is only yours
what you love to keep you swore,
what you see, forget no more.
While young only game allows
two and two did not take vows.
While young love was just a bet
two and two have never met.
Greenly leaflet, leafy purl,
when I was my mother’s girl,
I knew flower how to twirl.
Oh, magic sesame leaf,
after marriage disbelief,
I ditched you at door with grief.

English version Maria Magdalena Biela

The countdown

POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 31, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The countdown

The last morning of this year. While the rest of the “crowd” still sleeps (holidays!), I enjoy my solitude watching the trees shivering naked in the wind. The soft and cozy armchair comforts me in the kitchen, the only place of the house that allows me to make noise, lit candles and smile to my thoughts, still protecting the early morning sleep of my dear ones.
The trees are watching me back. Another year was measured by their leaves. Silence and darkness, only the wind trying to impress a snowless last day of this year. Around ten o’clock a.m. the night will go to sleep and the daylight will shine upon us for a few hours. The Northern hemisphere is not quite heaven in winter, especially for someone like me, born in the sunlight.
What is the protocol for the last day of the year? Is there any? Every year I feel the same restless “thing” that I must do something to mark the end of another segment of my life and every year I feel like I did nothing. Yes, I prepare food, drinks, the festive atmosphere. Yes, I write my feelings, thoughts in a diary to remember. And yet I am not satisfied. Something is missing. When someone dies, there are funerals to attend, to honor their passing. When a year dies what shall be done?
When I was a child my parents used “to shoot” the old year, open the windows wide at midnight for the new born year to enter the house and bring new good luck. I believed in what they did. I still do. Somehow the symbol of their tradition lost its roots here, in my country of adoption: new land, new meanings, old nostalgia.

So, apparently nothing could satisfy my need to mark the death of the 365th day of the year 2015. The TV is annoying, same old words, faces, tricks.
People outside seem to prepare themselves for the same old fights: shopping, dressing, camouflaging their faces for the parties.
Make up to cover up the wrinkles, the worries, the disappointments, the sadness, the loneliness, the compromising, the cheating, the faking, the boredom…
Only the true happiness needs no mask at all.
They seem ready for the countdown at midnight and for screaming “Happy New Year 2015”, wishing secretly or loud to be kissed by somebody (and to remember nothing or to regrette everything by the morning of January the 1st) while the champagne pours everywhere.

Cliché. The most cliché of all the clichés.

I would like to enter a monastery at midnight and thank Life for another year. Yes, that would make me happy. To light a candle and give thanks for those who are still alive in my life, those who are alive in the war, those who escape war and become free people, those who escape illness, children who really get help in the starving part of the world. To pray for those who lead countries and continents to be wiser and more honest, more human, less selfish, less greedy. To pray for the helpless, the blind, the deaf, the powerful, the killer, the preachers, the seekers of true light. To pray for peace on Earth.

But, I don’t need a monastery to do all of these. I can do it reasonably well here, in my kitchen, my humble sanctuary.

So, today, this morning of the 31th of December 2015, before daylight, I pray for one more year, I thank for all the years, I join hands with my naked trees and I kiss the old heaven, each cloud, each shivering star, each wounded branch, each bird, for the dying year.
Then I light up the new born stars, a blue moon, I paint some smoking chimneys on the old houses, a Christmas Tree for every child, an open window for the new year waiting to be born.
Then all my past years, dead and buried in my heart will know that I grew up with them, they taught me life, they taught me well…

Well, sleepy voices tell me that my fortress of solitude will be invaded by smiling sleepy faces soon.
Happy New Year 2016, my beloved Life!

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

Joulurauhan julistus/ The Proclamation of Christmas peace

POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 24, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joulurauhan julistus / The proclamation of Christmas peace

For sure everywhere in this world people are wishing for peace, for kindness, for good will especially in Christmas time. But the only country I know which really preserved the tradition of “proclaiming the Christmas peace” publically in Christmas Eve, is Finland.
Finnish people have a deep and true respect for Christmas.
Since I’ve been living here, in this northern space, I came to the understanding that there are a few things which entered deeply my heart and have been keeping me believe in the miracle of mankind on Earth.
One of these wonderful things is “Joulurauhan julistus”, “The proclamation of Christmas peace” which happens every year, on 24th of December, 12.00 sharp, in the city of Turku.
The history of this tradition goes back in time, to the year 1200, when it happened for the first time. The version of then has been improved by the year 1886, when the punishment for breaking the Christmas peace became stronger.
On Christmas Eve, the house is clean, the Christmas Tree is filled with candles and the star is shining, and families gather around the table for the traditional Christmas meal. But, at 12.00 the TV is on and every family, all over Finland, becomes part of the crowd waiting in Turku, in front of the Brinkkala Mansion balcony, for the Proclamation of Christmas peace.
After that, Christmas time officially starts, people are celebrating in their ways, knowing that nobody is allowed to harm anybody all these sacred days.
Prior to 1886, Christmas peace was proclaimed from the doors and windows of the town hall, as the old saying went. The wooden balcony became known as the Christmas peace balcony and Finns living in Turku are faithful to their tradition.
Every year, at 12.00 , on Christmas Eve, Turku becomes the  ” Christmas city” for all Finnish people.
After the chimes of Turku cathedral’s noon-day bell rang out across the square and following a ceremonial fanfare, one man formally reads the Declaration of peace from the balcony of Brinkkala House in Finnish and Swedish.

“Huomenna, jos Jumala suo,
on meidän Herramme ja Vapahtajamme armorikas syntymäjuhla;
ja julistetaan siis täten yleinen joulurauha kehoittamalla
kaikkia tätä juhlaa asiaankuuluvalla hartaudella viettämään
sekä muutoin hiljaisesti ja rauhallisesti käyttäytymään,
sillä se, joka tämän rauhan rikkoo ja joulujuhlaa jollakin
laittomalla taikka sopimattomalla käytöksellä häiritsee,
on raskauttavien asianhaarain vallitessa syypää siihen
rangaistukseen, jonka laki ja asetukset kustakin rikoksesta
ja rikkomuksesta erikseen säätävät. Lopuksi toivotetaan kaupungin
kaikille asukkaille riemullista joulujuhlaa.”

“I morgon, vill Gud,
infaller vår Herres och Frälsares nåderika födelsefest;
och varder förty härigenom en allmän julfred kungjord och påbjuden,
med åtvarning till envar att denna högtid med tillbörlig andakt fira,
och i övrigt iakttaga ett stilla och fridsamt uppförande,
emedan den, som häremot bryter samt julhögtiden
genom något olagligt eller otillbörligt förfarande oskärar,
gör sig under försvårande omständigheter förfallen till det straff,
lag och författningar för varje brott och överträdelse särskilt påbjuda.
Slutligen tillönskas stadens samtliga invånare en fröjdefull julhelg.”

The Declaration of Christmas Peace in Turku Christmas City of Finland
“Tomorrow, God willing,
is the graceful celebration of the birth of our Lord and Saviour; and thus is declared a peaceful Christmas time to all, by advising devotion and to behave otherwise quietly and peacefully, because he who breaks this peace and violates the peace of Christmas by any illegal or improper behaviour shall under aggravating circumstances be guilty and punished according to what the law and statutes prescribe for each and every offence separately.”

Kiitos Suomi!
Thank you, Finland, for keeping alive one place for peace, for goodness, for Santa Claus, for all people !
Hyvää  ja rauhallista Joulua, Suomi! Merry Christmas to all!

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

S.O.S. Santa Claus!

POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 24, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

S. O. S. Santa Claus!

Ever since we were children we have been waiting for Santa Claus to arrive on Christmas Eve and give us something which usually was our deepest wish. Growing up we have learned that Christmas is all about peace on earth, good will to mankind, light in our hearts. The road from the child waiting for Santa to the adult waiting for his children to smile in Santa’s arms is paved with memories, patience, experience and most of all the desire to keep alive the spirit of Christmas.
I was the child waiting for Santa, like I was waiting for my best friend. Now I am the adult who wants to help Santa be healthy and happy. But the time has changed and Santa gets slowly scared, tired during Christmas.
People grew too busy, too impatient, too greedy and some of them slowly have forgotten what Christmas is really all about. Santa cannot change the calendar, to reverse the time. He is confused: nowadays Christmas starts already in October?
All the shops are filled with shiny christmassy advertisement, TV offers all sorts of Christmas sales. By November the cities dress their Christmas trees with lights and stars are shining everywhere. When December comes every city or village is hosting the famous “christmas market”, where people go to drink mulled wine, eat sausages and buy all kind of christmassy stuff.
One can see Santa’s confusion! The Christmas trees aren’t green anymore! No! Now they are either white, or dazzling colorful, or golden yellow, cubist, or surrealist (Salvador Dali would be more confused than Santa!) as if we render our Christmas for a competition of the most postmodernist view and not as it is supposed to be: traditional. The streets become more and more crowded with busy people, nervous, aggressive, pushy, searching for something which never seems to please them enough. The food is either too expensive or out of date. The presents they prepare are a “must” not a pleasure. The cards they MUST send are too many to be written: in other words everything is “too something”.
Out of all this charade named Christmas one thing disturbs Santa the most: the presents offered by people to people. Offering a present to someone should bring happiness in both hearts: the giver and the receiver. When one prepares a present, one must think of the person who will receive it: what do they like, what would make them happy? A present should say: “I know who you are, I know what you secretly want, I know your dreams, wishes and I’d like to try to offer you a smile”.
A present mustn’t be a “must”, a duty, a “he gave me and I have to give him back “, do ut des. A present should be a quintessence of the person who offers it and of the person who receives it. Not a bribe, not a must, not a “thing which I don’t need, so I can give it to somebody else and get rid of it and of the duty of offering a present”. Or even worse: a present should not become a competition of “who’s richer than who?”. Unfortunately, more and more Christmas time has become a time for expensive gifts which have an ulterior motive. The heart is no longer involved in the process.
So, bottom line: Santa is sad and confused. How can we help him?
I remember him when I was a child, and he came to my parents’ house. It was not a rich house but it was clean, warm, luminous, cosy, with a shy Christmas tree in a corner decorated with candles and angels and ornaments made by me and my brothers. Santa felt home in my house. He knew the road by heart, it was silent night, snowy starry night, every year. Maybe that silence and the snow-covered house where children were dreaming of him in Christmas Eve is one thing which could guide Santa through the noisy life of today. Bear with us, Santa, we will bring back the Christmas spirit and we will remember how to make a house be a home for you!

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

Happy Birthday, Romania!

POSTED IN Stories December 1, 2015

The autistic land (Sonnet)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know you hear me, but you answer not.
I beg and scream: “Please, look into my eyes!”.
Yet, silently, you scratch unopened skies.
I wish I’d know your every hidden thought.
I try to hug you, but you pull away,
you clap your hands and rocking back and forth,
you feel your body as a magic cloth,
and I am crying like a wandered stray.
Your lakes are staring as if truly blind.
Your trees, confused, fight hard to stay unshaken.
Your land holds secrets of a greatest mind.
Your soul remembers fear to be forsaken.

You are my country and I love you so.
Not ever, do not ever let me go.

 

Finland, 22.08.2014

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

White noise

POSTED IN Stories November 23, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In all the world
there’s nothing like
the sound of falling snow,

the only noise
I’ve ever known
that makes the clocks move slow.

The only sound
that sweeps away
the din of city streets;

and wraps around,
in soft embrace,
‘most everyone it meets.

A sound that’s not
a sound at all,
a quiet, soft and dear,

that comforts all
the sleepy souls
who sit, and watch, and hear.

 

the first snow, the 21st of November, 2015
Finland

Maria Magdalena Biela

A losing hand

POSTED IN Stories November 23, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A losing hand

Now we gamble on our love.
We shared the feelings equally
and all bets are off.
I open with a fear
you call my fear and raise an anger
so I lose this first round.
Then I bet a memory
you call my bluff
and raise the forgetting
and I lose again.
I bet a question,
you raise the silence
and do not win.
I bet the “I love you” ace
your glance calls and raises
the “I loved you” straight flush.
Resigned I accept the defeat.
(Well, I still have an ace up my sleeve: the Hope!)

 

The 23rd of November 2015

 

Maria Magdalena Biela

Analfabetilor / You, illiterates

POSTED IN Stories September 21, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Analfabetilor / You, illiterates

 

V-am spus ca sunt un om periculos
Si nu mi-ati luat avertismentu-n seama.
V-am spus s-aveti pentru persoana mea
Un plus de-ngrijorare si de teama.

V-am spus ca fac teribil de urât
De sunt calcat putin pe libertate.
V-am spus ca sunt osteanul credincios
Dar care doar cu inamici se bate.

V-am spus sa va astâmparati si voi,
Cenzori capriciosi ai vremii mele,
C-o sa va coste scump maruntul moft,
De a ne face noua zile grele.

V-am spus sa puneti mâna sa munciti.
Sa nu mai tot pânditi zelosi din umbra,
V-am spus ca n-o sa placa nimanui
Pornirea voastra, tulbure si sumbra.

V-am spus ca vremurile s-au schimbat
Si ca situatia e mai complexa,
Nu-i intelectualul – servitor.
Cultura nu-i ceva ca o anexa.

Si lumea nu se poate cuceri
Umflând la cifre si mimind tumulturi
Cu aroganti si trindavi doctoranzi,
Cu papagali care tin loc de vulturi.

V-am spus si am puterea sa mai spun
Ca nu încape muntele în sera
Ca prea-i scurt drumul de la rai la iad
Si de la caprioara la pantera.

V-am spus sa nu-l fetisizati pe Marx,
Sa nu-i pastrati în spirt învatatura
Si voi într-una fara sa-l cititi
Îl pomeniti pâna va doare gura.

V-am spus ca batalia pentru om
Nu iarta astazi nici o dezertare
Si voi v-ati decorat voi între voi
Când lupta este în desfasurare.

V-am spus ca muzica nu-i un microb
Care ameninta civilizatii
E-a omului pentru a fi mai bun,
V-am spus: ceva care sa-i placa dati-i.

V-am spus, concetateni analfabeti,
Si luati aminte si sa tineti minte.
Dar nu stiam ca v-ati nascut si surzi
Si scoateti arma când vedeti cuvinte.

ADRIAN PAUNESCU

……………………………………

YOU, ILLITERATES

I told you that I am a dangerous man
and you chose to ignore my righteous warning.
I told you be more cautious and afraid
when you speak and my person is concerning.

I told you that I terribly react
if you step on my freedom just a tad.
I told you that I am the faithful soldier
who’s fighting only foes, worst kind of lad.

I told you to calm down and to appease,
you, capricious censors of our age,
that you’ll pay dearly your petty caprice
to make our days much harder than a cage.

I told you to start working, really work,
and not lurk zealously behind our back.
I told you that nobody will ever like
your dreary tendency, troubled and dark.

I told you that the time of now has changed
and the lay of the land is more complex.
The intellectual is not a servant
and culture’s something more than an annex.

The world cannot be conquered only with
inflated figures, phony enthuse vox
with arrogant and lazy doctorands,
and parakeets  replacing eagle-hawks.

I told you and I have the guts to tell
that in a greenhouse cannot fit the mount,
that is too short the path: Eden to Hell
and from the doe to panther in a hunt.

I told you to not fetishize Marx, and
to not preserve his teaching in a jar.
But without reading him, you, on and on,
quote him until your tired mouths have scar.

I told you that the battle for mankind
allows not a desertion nowadays,
but you awarded medals to yourselves,
while the battle goes on many ways.

I told you music isn’t a disease
that threatens our old civilization.
It’s for the humankind, to make them better,
I told you: give it the best of a nation.

I told you, fellow citizens, illiterates
forever to remember and beware!
But I didn’t know that you’re born deaf
and fire a gun when words are in the air.

 

 

Romanian version Maria Magdalena Biela

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