Elena Liliana Popescu To You, My reader!

Try to set aside your daily worries and step with me into this Dream reality we call Poetry. Open wide the gate to your heart, for these lines were written especially for you: born within my heart, they were meant to arise from the world of thought-forms and be clad into word-forms, so that they would appear- with destiny fulfilled - to the ceremony of meeting you, my reader.

Simplicity, which is Truth in essence, can only be expressed though silence: all the words in the world do nothing but attempt to describe this. But it is self-knowledge - the simplest and hardest ideal to accomplish - that is each person's goal and that of the world entire, and to it alone we subordinate our quest. At times, this quest takes the form of poetry.

Poets come and go, but they behind their quest to reveal Poetry's unseen face. For this face looks on us without judgment from beyond the veil of Illusion.

Elena Liliana Popescu

English version: Adrian George Sahlean
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POEMS
Elena Liliana Popescu

Silent light

Out of the web of rays-destinies
a thread descends towards you
The silent light has in it
the lost treasure of life

Detached from the trap of the mind
Life penetrates a soul
And how much tenderness it spreads around
out of the Voice that hides its own image

In the instants that the time contains
and the thoughts are nailed down
You cross unmoved the labyrinth
of the never spoken words.


Gracious light

Light the candle in the inner room
that is waiting for its thin light
Dress your soul in the simplest clothes
appropriately meet its gracious speaking

And let its most pure ray penetrate
in every corner to illuminate it
Watch constantly, so that nothing hides
the unknown soul as we know it.


In a moment of silence

I saw you
in a moment of silence
beyond the masks
of your arrogance
and
looking into your soul
you were one with me...

Towards you

In memory of my father
the pilot and poet George Ioana

In your flight
that brings you
to immortality
and to eternal memory
arrays of angels
are coming to accompany you
to alleviate your desire
to dream,
to change to amber
the tears of the loves ones
left behind
and to illumine the flight
high above
beyond the clouds,
towards yourself
so that you can run
towards the last battle.


In order to find Him

Christ is risen
in the heart
of the one who woke up
in order to find Him again
one more time
maybe
forever.

Only the silences

Leave to the poet
only the silences
from The Silence
that gives birth
from words
to the Word...

All

Once upon a time
There was one day
when we think
we met
and we told each other
all we had
to say.

All
was said
in the instant
when
our souls
recognized each other.


Tell me

To my husband, Nicolae

You did not believe
that you can win only
when you will give up all weapons
you will fight with your own image
for your liberation.

You will not be able to look at yourself
in the mirrors that show you
week or arrogant
courageous or coward
as you wish…

You were told
but didn’t believe…

In the country with no mirrors
how will your image be?
you will ask yourself then
one more time and will find out
if you will let the answer
come by itself

What will you have to lose
when the quest will be
the only possible reality?

What is the way
the one who travels is asking
without knowing the only way
he can follow to get there?...

To get where
if he is already there
even if he can’t know yet
that he is the winner?

What competition is more fearful
than the one in which
you are the only stubborn competitor?

But how can you still fight
when the enemy wears
as amulet
only your own image?

Chase all hopes away, you were told
in order to be able to truly hope!

But, tell me, what is hope good for
when one has already everything
Or knowing the way back
When you already arrived? ...


Rha

When the god contemplates his immortality
in the instant that bows down before him
and when he contains the depths with the look
of a mind emptied of all things

He sees everything: everything that is,
has been or is going to be,
he sees everything as a strange story
play of illusion that he resurrects,

When it seems that there comes a world
of those who do not see but would like to know
and alas for the one who will not be able
to look for his salvation from slavery...

I would like to tell you

I would like to tell you,
as I did not know how to until now,
something that will be talking to you
when I will not be here
but I have constantly been stumbling
over how words could never
contain the silence
that surprising silence
that becomes words
pure, healing...


The morning dream

Could infinity be the word
that secretly contains our dreams,
unfulfilled, passed on to our sons, living
burden for their incarcerated soul?

Could silence be the word
that magically detaches the morning dream
left to you, unknown treasure
and mystery of the purified soul?

What can that mean?

What could be the meaning of that desert
that only our tears incessantly are watering
making it more and more arid?

What could be the meaning of that depth
that you stubbornly want to touch
when all hopes are dead?

What could be the meaning of that sadness
that you hold with you in the night
that you think is not going to end?

What could be the meaning of that silence
that you live suddenly
with no name, no form, without yourself?

In order to come back

Drops of water
do not stop
falling from the clouds
that have appeared out of nowhere;
they hasten to die
in order to come back
home...


When everything is lost

The clock has not stayed but the hours
are not marked any more
on the frame of time
that stands still, in contemplation

The perspective is not lost,
but the objects cannot be seen anymore
demarcated on the pure length
of space with no name

Life has not ended but death
can’t be seen at the horizon
waiting for the one who will rebel sometime,
somewhere, in the country of forgetfulness.

Everything is in its place as it used to be
even though everything does not mean anything
anymore when it gets lost in the timeless space,
in the spaceless time…


That instant

A few words, you told yourself,
only a few words, and you created a
a whole history whose present
is already yesterday, just as tomorrow
will be only the past of the one
left behind, lost
forever...

Just one word, you tell yourself,
just one word, and you come closer
in your way, to the unexpected step
towards the unknown, with no fear
of that thought that is you and is not,
of that instant in which you can be
and are.


Somewhere, sometime

To my father

Only now
I am writing to you this letter
in which I ask for forgiveness
because I did not think till today
that I could write to you
after you left
going so far away
one can say
for ever…

You know that from that moment on,
from your unexpected flight
I was not able to put together
a handful of lines
full of hope
even though I continued to do
what I thought is good
like those who imagine
that they know what the good is
in their expending pride

And even though I did not tell you
until this moment, you need to know
that my longing for you stayed intact
that not one single day passed
without me waiting to hear your voice
reciting in the light of the dawn
the most beautiful poems in the universe
imagining as we did long time ago
that we are in a regular day
of a certain season
on a planet forgotten by people
that lives its life, unknown
like you
somewhere, sometime
immortal.

English version by Theodor Damian



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