Ioan Rusu


Remembers Of The Life Time - Poem by Ioan Rusu

Remembers of the Life Time


Sometime, even if we die
We still remember…



White birds never die.

Like flowers, they are eternal.

Always, I believe in flowers and white bird

Honey, come with me

showing to you,

only to you,

how marvel is the world of flowers

and white birds.

*
* *

This autumn is coming

like a fancy.

I'm cold

and I closed the door.

It's raining

and you never came.

Oh, everything is dead

in this autumn like a fancy.

*
* *

Alone in the city of stone

I live in the district of stone

on street of stone

in the house of stone.

Here, everyone is of stone

with heart of stone.

Oh, God!

I'm so alone

in the city of stone.

*
* *

It's autumn and I'm thinking

alone in a strange town

that nobody knows me.

Maybe is better so,

wondering on streets,

alone, in a strange town.

*
* *

Now, I never look away.

The autumn urge me forward.

Leaves free from wind

run in the woods.

Oh, leaves, leaves! ...

Take me with you...

*
* *

What a winter!

It's so cold!

What disappointment!

Having nothing in your pocket,

only listening the wind

in the night

and lonely, lonely,

thinking somewhere faraway...

Dream and be happy!

Forget that tomorrow

you have another day of living...

*
* *

Now, when roses are blossoming

in the sunshine,

Honey, let's go in the gardens.

Let's go

when we are young like roses.

Look!

the delicacy of pales

shows us the way of love...

Maybe tomorrow, like them,

we make old.

Honey, let's love roses now,

in the garden of life.

*
* *

The gold of your fingers

is a metal

like any other metal.

The gold does not take off

your old age

and loneliness.


Gold is a metal

like any other metal.

*
* *

In the evenings

I open the window

to see the charm of the night.

But I'm too tired.

In the mornings

I open the window

to see the charm of the daybreak.

But I'm too tired.



Every day only work...

And so we make old.


*
* *



Communist view.

I cross alone the starve town in the night.

Ghosts at windows look the gray of the sky.

Cold and nobody is in the streets.

My footsteps ring on sidewalk

and the shadow lean more and more.

The death with her mowing

comes in the town.

*
* *

Look how this winter

is gone in the fields!

Sunday evening

and you didn't come.



Free under a cold sky

our years are gone

and all this story

seems to be very old.

*
* *

This autumn I'm thinking

to the loneliness of the seas,

shore solitude,

cold sand

and my ice - heart.



Oh, God, I am feeling like Ovidiu

exiled at the Black Sea.

*
* *

The swinging of the reed in the wind

it's so hard, as human despair.


The loneliness of the reed

it's our loneliness.

*
* *

The shivering of your shadow

is as the shivering of the moon over seas

in the blue nights.

I tremble for you,

I'm afraid that the Wind

will take you with him

over the sheen of the seas.

*
* *

When the dawn is coming,

I'm thinking to you.

In the thick of oak woods

still are solitary deer pairs

and I'm dreaming to Arcadia.


Come my darling,

until the last white bird

will die! ...

*
* *

The autumn is coming

see me crying.

I don't know

but there are years

run away...

On paths, in their shivering,

leaves are going for ever

and I wish

in the thick of the woods

lonely to die...

*
* *

Every morning

the sun rises in peace

over the mountains

over the seas...


The herbs call me

from the depth of the woods...

On the wild paths

I'm looking in my heart.

My soul is shivering...




Only the sun

rises in peace

every morning...

*
* *

The autumn with her leaves

I hear from the distance.

There are the signs

of our crossing...



I wish nothing to know! ...

Birds pierce in the sky

and, my wild soul remains

with the deer in the woods.

*
* *

Waiting for you

the autumn was coming

and I am maybe the shadow of a tree

or a path

near the forest and the lake.

*
* *

When out is raining

I am more alone.



I dream a house

somewhere at the countryside

with trees and gardens.


Thoughts, thoughts! ...

When out is raining

I am more alone.

*
* *

I'm plunged in the silence of steppe,

in the loneliness of seas.

In the night, on wild shores

I'm listening the sound of the moon.



Thrilling of waves and lights

travel by the wind in the horizon.

The sadness of poet Ovidiu

is reflected in the bottom of the sea.

*
* *

As we aid the flowers

let's aid the poet,

as we aid white birds

let's aid the poet,

because the poet is so frail

as flowers and white birds.

*
* *

White nights are going

on fields, on steppe.

Moon is shivering over seas

and somewhere in the mountains snow.



Lonely, on paths I will go

in the depth of the woods

in cold

crying near the deer

with ice soul.

*
* *

It's autumn and maybe tomorrow

I will die on streets

and nobody take care.



It will be there

many leaves

and it will be raining everywhere.



It's autumn and maybe tomorrow.

*
* *

The spring is coming

much as a sign

remember us

that everything

is crossing...


Yes, the spring

is much as a sign.

*
* *

The way of Golgotha is so long

as long is our life.

We beat nails in our souls

one to each other

every day.


Only those who pray in the churches

poor and ill

know where is going

the way of Golgotha.

*
* *

I wait in quiet my end

near the garden of roses.

I know that my soul

will be a bird

flying in the sky

and I also know

that nothing will come back

and happiness

is the irreversible trifle

of our crossing...

I wait in quiet my end

near the garden of roses.

*
* *

The autumn of my mind

was going as leaves over seas.

Will come the coldness,

hard and wild

and I am the leafless oak

in the depth of the winter.

*
* *

In this world

we come alone

and alone we die,

we don't know why

and there are no reasons

to be sad.

*
* *

With an ice aye

I'm looking over woods

when winter comes.

Leaves, as bloody tears

are crying an paths.

Lonely, trees are shivering

under a cold sky.

Somewhere, in the mountains

I see a deer pairs

with ice hearts,

but I know that their warmly love

will cross over this cold winter.

*
* *

Sometimes,

I close my eyes

and I see

the sky and the sea,

the shore

and you,

walk lonely...



Late remembers

from a forget summer.

*
* *

If you are never listening

the music of violins

in blue nights,

a part of your soul is dead.


If you never wrote a poem

on the moving sand

near the sea and the sky,

a part of your soul is dead.


If you never stop

to listen the song of the birds

in the garden of life,

a part of your soul is death.


If you never think

at the loneliness of old age,

a part of your soul is death.


I stay at the window

and I'm looking over the world:

I see only a few people...

*
* *

Stones are never talking.

They are silent in their happiness.

Lonely,

I wish to be a stone

looking the sky and the seas,

forget the shore

where are my roots.

*
* *

From the window of my room

I'm looking to the factories area.

The trees seem to have no sense

as our life.

The autumn is coming

to take her leaves...

*
* *

I was looking in the mirror

to see my face.

What disappointment!

There isn't even a shadow...

*
* *

This autumn is coming

because I'm more tired

and old.

In the autumn

the flowers have no sense.

*
* *

The autumn is coming
alone on streets.

Cold and rain.

With white hair,
older and older,
as the leaves will die
so will die the poet.

It will come the winter
hard and wild.

But after the death
of my body,
I still hope,
in all my soul,
that the spring
will come again.


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Read poems about / on: autumn, lonely, winter, alone, sky, wind, spring, sea, time, moon, death, happiness, life, city, remember, house, peace, dream, travel, solitude



Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 17, 2003



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