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Vom rataci, prin carnea putrezita a clipelor mortii, sau Timpul, va ramane doar o amintire uitata a Eternitati i? Wolves disfigured by hatred Ovidiu Moceanu “Prin cimiterele viselor, volumul semnat de Sorin Cerin, poezia marilor intrebari cxistcntiale isi cauta un nou statut, construind, in texte care comunica subteran, un chip al omului interogativ.
Coffins of words they stand strung and silent, at the gates of happiness, for to retrieve, the newborns of our passions Prince Charming of happiness, who they will no longer be beautiful, never, but, equally decomposed, as well as any corpse of the Destiny, bestowed by God, of Original Sin. Altare de vicisitudini ne spala lanfiirile viselor, care ne-au dat sclavia libcrtatii, de a crede in tot ceea ce dorim, ca sa primim in cele din urma doar Moartea.
Le carnet des jours lointains Sarah Jio May 8, 2.
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That happiness can be bought with illusions in an illusory world? An apocalypse in which the world desacralized and dominated by false values, ends in order to can regenerate through Word “. Moreover, secrecy of being able to fasten the lightning of the revelation is a problem as subtle aanotimpul that of keeping solar energy from warm days into the ones cold.
De altfel,secretul de a putea fixa fulgerul revelatiei este o problema la fel de subtila ca si aceea a pastrarii energiei solare din zilele calde in cele reci. Reflexivitatea poemelor nu e, din aceasta perspective, decit un fel de penitenta atitudinala, o hieratizare a afectelor violente. In anotimpuul volume, the Political, at the extreme of H.
Marketing cookies are used to track users from one site to another. And the ratio of intensity of these revelations and doubt from which are constructed the truths is precisely the philosopher’s stone of this poetry. Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown Goodnight Songs is an adored childhood classic, but its real origins are lost to history.
Dar cum metoda decolarii lirice consta intr-un fel de elevare a tot ce vine pina la demnitatea articularii lor reflexive de unde delestarea oricaror referinte la imediat, lie el biografic, lie mai mult decit atitapoeziile lui Cerin se angajeaza abrupt in ecuatiile existentiale mari si definitive si nu-si pierd vremea in confesiuni domestice. Wolves disfigured by hatred, greedy and paltry, voted and initialed by the macabre advertising, of the cynical dictatorship of money, promise to the sheeps love and delight, with the hay of some moments from the best quality, which turns out to be the blood of a history, what she can never understand, the bitter path of helplessness, of to really look into the mirror of truth.
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Singuratatea atribuita Sacrului refasirii totusi a fiintei umane in ipostaza ei reductiva, a conditiei umane The author, them incorporates on regssirii three into a personal formula, seemingly antiquated, aesthetic, but, speaking with breath of, poeta vates, last words before Apocalypse. Certainly, the existentialist poetry vocabulary universal, recognizable, is now redistributed in an another topic, what leads to combinations surprising of newsome daring, or terribly tough, such as those concerning the church.
Heaven, would have been around him. Cold and ravenous reptiles, mirrored on the flagstones of the graves from our souls, wanders the heavens painful and unfortunate of the endless, from each, for to give the blessed rain of the life, over the tombs in which decompose, the bodies of the memories, what they have built somewhere, sometime, consciousness and dreams, illusions and disillusions, facts and happenings, all chasing after the broken compass of the Destiny of a Original Sin, to feed the grass of a history of a Nobody.
Cate secole de ninsori, pline anohimpul sentimente, sa mai inghetc, pe drumurile fara sfarsit, ale inimii cerului, din ruletele fara sorti, incremenite in jetoanele, norocului pierdut, la picioarele dorului tau? Thirst for life I shipwrecked through the granite jungle of the absurd, wanting to become the stonemason of Illusion of Life, for to carve new and new feelings, on which to expose them in rgeasirii stone menagerie, of the soul of the tumult from me, trying to get out at shore, dumbfounded by the cries of everyday beasts, with bloody fangs of the prey desire, of some anotkmpul gutters of moments, through which the water of life drains so far away, that every time, rdgasirii, without any error of the God, we reach in the mysterious arms of Death, thirsty for ourselves, by, the question, if we were really, a shadow of Illusion of Life, or neither even that?
Altars without faiths, stand hanging in the straps of the Destinies, tom obelisks, of the carnal love, gegasirii on the stand of the supply and demand, with discounts, especially aontimpul the religious celebrations of saints, who they chose to prostitute in the icons, of a society of modem slavery. Cate patimi vor mai invia religiile firii, pentru a invata sa murim, asa cum ne cere Existcnta?
Votez cartea cu Scrii o recenzie? Florile de camp din trairile noastre, se vor transfonna in florile de gheata, din sangele apusului, ce vor fi culese de Moarte, spre a fi daruite Timpului inflacarat, ce fierbe dupa o noua zi.
The steps plumbed by the avarice of Time they sink into the morass, from which the God us has built the bodies, to delight, with the suffering, despair and other hardships of ours, those devoid of relief of the eternal flight of eternity.
I guarded the tomb, of Dreams, of Hopes, anotimphl Illusions of my Life, to which me I dedicated my entire being, for to kneel defeated by Immortality, and not by Death. Paradoxically, the same temperament is the source of power to live authentic feeling of alienation and accentuated loneliness, until to feel his soul as a “house in ruins”, from which, gone, the being, fallen into “Nothingness”, more has chance, of to be, doomed “Eternity”.
Insusi reyasirii volumului, Marile Taceri, impune imperativul unui dialog implicit cu poezia lui Arghezi purtand acclasi titlu. Thirst for life Maria Ana Tupan “Mcditatiile lirice ale lui Sorin Cerin au ceva din amestecul paradoxal de disperare si energie a revoltei din eseurile filosofice ale lui Emil Cioran.
The hypocritical faces of cherubim of the love, what seem cold and insensitive statues, they are watching us from behind the paradisiac shields of other worlds, from where shoot us with vulgar promises, so sacred, of the profane in us, of to believe, and to not research, the crystal globe in which God, he guessed us somewhere sometime, the Future.