10-10=0
If we could combine
the perfectly good and the perfectly evil,
we would obtain the imperfection.
If we could take
a piece of paradise
and a piece of hell
and we could gather them in us,
our souls would become less beautiful.
Because the truth of inside would swallow
the lie of inside and, indeed,
the absolute truth would be relative.
And if our love could swallow
our hatred,
than we would love less.
If me and you together,
we could form an amphora,
by trying to find the absolute truths
in a new and perfect love for Him,
we would need all our faith
to remove
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Julio Iglesias -Dedication
Perhaps we are ´´parte de tus sueños'' (part of your dreams)
And something is calling for you,
But, certainly, you are one of everyone's dreams
And that beautiful melancholy of yours
Is a source of sounds deeply touching, inspiring, magical,
For life'' and for '' El Amor'' (love)
Remaining inside all of us.
A divine vibration is healing the deep wounds
In a dance of sung irresistible words,
Which may recreate your image
In our minds and souls,
Especially, when we want to ''Passar Di Mano'' (pass a hand) feeling.
Wind, apparently, dissolved the melodious words
In the rustle of leaves, in the sound of rain applause,
In those ''Momenti '' (moments) of ''Me olvid de vivir'' (I forgot to live)
And in the rain drops falling on the leaves
And falling over our faces to mix with our tears,
When you start to sing ''Por el amor de una mujer'' (the love for a woman)
Wanting to tell her ''Abrazame''(embrace me)
Your dreams become sad pieces of quasars,
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Forever his eyes can see.....
Painting beautiful words and painting with words,
Painting an ugly portrait with a hidden beauty,
Portraiture means, sometimes, silent poetry,
And other times, means a flower blossoming,
A miracle and a privilege,
Or just beauty beyond the words.
With tears like drops of rain, with tears in the rain,
Portraiture is an ice cube in the water of colors,
Floating on the river of time....
Sweet thoughts of the portraitist are coming to light,
Becoming creative and insightful realities...
He's always angry with himself, but he's never hating himself,
When he wants to be a witness, who testifies the truth.
He, sometimes, becomes frustrated, while he is living with his faith
And his divine malignant fever means writing poems,
Which are born, sometimes, from his obsessions with music.
It is about that kind of music,
Which is torturing his dreams throughout the night
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Snowman
The snowman doesn't know why
The reasons are balanced perfectly by feelings …
He was dealing last week with a snowstorm
Wondering to know how many snowflakes could fall..
The snowman thinks of
The pure joy of being alive …..
Now rain comes down in trickles, melting the snow
And he feels to let all the weight of life fall to the ground and become a part of it....
He shines like a porcelain now,
And he knows that he has nowhere else to go.
He makes an effort to distinguishing between
These two incommensurable realms, nature and freedom......
He examines the black hearses spanning out of white
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Dance of love(II)
When I look into your eyes, I see their light.
Our relationship seems to be indestructible.
I give myself to you and I hold you so tight.
Being with you, our dreams are achievable.
We are together, we explore our perfect universe
Because together we can prevail everything.
We are one being, seemingly living in reverse.
You fulfill my desire, you get my heart on a string.
When you penetrate me, I become another being,
You take everything from me, you give me everything.
It is like a dawn of our souls, another awaking.
We love each other so much, we feel like exploding.
It is a connection between the hearts, the soul and the body.
We dance our feelings, our tears, our thoughts and our passion.
Dancing in rhythm with stars, our love we need to embody.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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A sunset [ double Quintain (English and Sicilian) ]
While the red butterfly melts its wings
Within the light red poppy chain,
The pink gray cloud of the sunset rings
On the gray pink sky the light rays,
Seemingly thrown in a bloody pain.
The leaving sun abandons the sky
For a few hours and like crickets crawl,
The whispers of oak leaves mean good bye,
While the coming night is a dark haul,
Looking at the moon with a black eye.
The sun and the moon finds synergy,
Light becomes gray regolith of moon
With helium fusing energy,
Night makes moon looks like a big balloon
Or like swaddled in a big cocoon.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Concert on the Romanian seaside
Vocal fold vibration,
Simple harmonic motion,
Nonlinear interaction of sound waves,
Empathizing the rhythm
Of the naked music
And the embracing voice,
Words and thoughts
Coming alive and vivid
At the sound touch,
Having its own sense of charm,
Changing depths of enlightened awareness,
Discovering the thrill
Of seeing new interior structures,
Protecting its innate purity
For the song in itself,
For those souls,
Who are engulfed in desire
And for his own vision,
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The non-existent truth
The defined and undefined truth,
Endowed with knowledge or without knowledge,
Sometimes real or unreal,
Certainly including being and non-being,
Accepting that being is true,
Accepting the non-existence of being,
When the absence of existence means the negation of being,
Accepting that truth did not exist,
And it would have been true that it did not exist, at the same time,
Understanding that truth is eternal,
Imagining the idea of a non-existing world,
Before its own existence,
Accepting the universal and immortal truth,
So interchangeable with being,
While the universal never ceases of itself,
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Confession
I have a negative freedom,
Isolating and weakening me very much.
I got hurt many times,
But the most important wounds
Were at my heel and my soul.
I broke my collar-bone of soul
In wrestling with my love for life
And I feel my heel like Achilles, when
I think of my freedom.
Maybe some gigantic forces are beyond my control.
Today, because of my old injuries,
I can’t go on with my life.
I was told that my soul was mildly sprained,
But the soul injury was much more serious than I was told.
So, I’m abandoned, living with my pain.
I'm a modern person, being so well rooted
In the complexity of social forces.
My speech is always passively
And, without some form of universal care,
I’ll never be able to go on this way.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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This Earth Is Cracking
In USA,
There is a presidential election fight,
Well, everything seems to be alright,
It might be alright, everything seems tight,
Sometimes, I dream of a red sky,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
Turkey
Sends bombs for free into Syria, on the other side,
Well, it seems that nothing is more important than having pride,
When Syrians in Turkey need to hide,
I've never dreamt of a sky so red,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
The Greeks
Don't want to sell to Canadian consumers their gold,
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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