Atunci si Acum
Atunci cand erai departe, cand intre noi doi era un ocean, si 7000 de kilometri
cand tu erai in trecut, iar eu in viitor
atunci, de ce ma iubeai, si vroiai
sa ma porti pe deget, iar acum
cand ai venit acasa, nu mai simti la fel.
Am gresit cumva, trebuia oare sa te fac din cand in cand sa ma urasti?
ca sa nu uiti cum sa ma iubesti.
Atunci nu-ti pasa, insa acum vezi numai defecte
si cauti orice lucru, ce ar putea sa ne desparta, si te urasc putin pentru asta, pentru ca nu ai incredere in mine.
Da, e o lume oribila, dar asta nu inseamna ca trebuie sa ne lasam modelati de ea,
avem si noi putere, nu suntem chiar atat de slabi.
Pentru mine e invers, pentru ca acum
te iubesc, mai mult decat te iubeam atunci,
mai mult decat te-am iubit vreodata,
si simt ca o sa te iubesc in continuare
mai mult decat voi iubii vreodata.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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I've Been Thinking Too Much Of You
Starting to rust, where your arms used to hold me
Untill you corrupt me,
to forget by dying,
(for the ink i've used for your name
is not erasable)
The broken man,
that couldn't go back, in the arms of no one
or in the arms of another
is still here, where you left him
thinking too much, and waiting for the world to stop
and sleep.
They're not sleeping enough, I think
they don't dream you as I dream you.
I belive you, when you say: I love you,
but you don't say it anymore,
And I feel prepared to die
but it's not enough to live without you.
I swear god, as I show him the finger
I hate him, for this world of stupid people.
I think too much of you,
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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A Regret of You
They're bending mountains over you, with the elegance of god
trying to impress the nesting soul in you.
Decapitating suns, to give you their crown,
they ruin worlds, in search for a ring, a ring they put in your hand, to have you naked, in their lies,
and I suffer, because I don't have anything else to give you, than I already gave.
I don't have gold, diamonds or silver. I don't have a castle of my own. I don't have a crown.
words are cheap, and I can only offer you this,
but know that they are my most precious thing.
And maybe Desnos and others, said it better,
but I don't want to send you their poems,
I want to send my own words to you, because they have you in their minds,
and not the one Desnos was thinking about.
My words are my thoughts, and they wouldn't have existed without you,
my one.
At the end of it,
it's the moment to say what I neglected:
I love you..
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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My Stories Of You (chapter eleven)
The whales are fishing our hearts, from the other side of the world
proof that the giants were missing something important
as we all do.
It's almost like the battle of Troy,
heroes killing one another on the Plains of Love,
for the chance that maybe
maybe
you love them too.
And you are white and freckled, as the creatures on the moon,
that dance with the sun in his great eclipses.
You're a miracle of a girl,
beyond the beauty of Cleopatra or Helen of the Troy.
Even the great Babylon lost, in it's bet to reach you, so
how can you expect me
to remain untouched
by this impossible love of yours.
Grilling my heart in hell, at the cost of your love,
I break all the bottles,
and let the sins come out once again.
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Pieces Of You In A Pair Of Dreams (chapter two)
'So, I've decided to write in this language, instead of my own,
not to madden you, but to make it less personal.
It was silly of me to think that in your eyes I'm more than the hero that killed your butterflies.
I can't even write.
Look at my poems.
They're ridiculously ugly, just like me.'
That night,
I saw the giant white moon reflected on your lips,
and I kissed It.
It tasted more like you, than like her.
It had your parfume too,
and the whole world was jelous,
on me and on you, for we were happy
like Romeo and Juliet, like Adam and Eve, like Tristan and Isolde, and like Dante and his Beatrice,
one meant for the other.
Wearing the black dress of night
you were like the queen of the giants,
a flower that huged the sun without the fear that has you now.
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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The island of you
It's a ship of the seas, this island I always find, in my dreams,
and although you're not here with me anymore, somehow my mind always finds you there
surrounded by the beauty of o fantasy world
burning the hearts of men
and smiling, murderously, towards every sailor that lost their love's name
far far into the storm of their hearts doubt.
The last two pages of the journal, are dedicated to you my love
siren without a voice,
and woman with many names and faces,
I haven't write them yet
as the future becomes not, what I thought to become
and what you secretly hoped I would be.
The ink I need, to write to you,
is not here, is somewhere on the bottom of the sky
and the sky is falling in love with you too,
just like everybody else.
Funny how, even my hate, loves you,
as I grieve over the place where your love,
the love that I needed, lost it's identity, and became unclear to you
unbearable
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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My Stories Of You (Chapter Eight)
Like a book I wait for you,
to read my pages once again.
I put new words in here, and like the old ones,
they belong to you too,
but I wander if you still want them as before.
By these words I stay,
encouraged by the moon, instigator of love,
to keep writing of you
as the great poets, did with their muses.
I'm not a poet, nor do I strive to become one.
You can call me 'the bad writer of his own feelings'.
Today, I fell in love with you (again! ! , It's like a million times already) .
But you are beautiful as a bride, you know!
Out of you I challenge myself to be,
but it's something that I'm not used to do anymore,
since I gave you my world, to rule over it.
Your kisses don't touch me at all,
the stairs that we don't walk
the blackness of no one around us
and the eagerness of every empty elevator,
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Tu nu vei afla
Tu, cea pe care o iubesc cel mai mult dintre toate fetele din lumea asta mizerabila,
cea pentru care simt ceea ce nu am simtit niciodata pentru nimeni
tu nu ma iubesti pe mine, tu nu te gandesti la mine, si nu iti pasa de mine,
asa cum mie imi pasa de tine, asa cum eu te iubesc pe tine.
Inca te mai gasesc, dar nu pot sa te mai ating, sau sa te sarut.
Nu mai pot nici macar sa te iubesc in secret
cum o faceam inainte sa fim impreuna
nu mai am voie, pentru ca spre deosebire de atunci
acum, tu nu mai vrei ca eu sa te iubesc
sa te pretuiesc
sa-ti trimit mesaje
tu nu mai ai nevoie sa ma auzi rostind
acele cuvinte care pentru tine sunt atat de greu de rostit, sau simtit.
Tu nu crezi ca as fi putut
dar eu inca vreau
sa-mi ucid visele pentru tine,
sa plec oriunde, pentru a ramane cu tine
sa ard in iad pentru inca un sarut
acel sarut, care pentru tine nu mai inseamna nimic.
As vrea sa iti mai spun toate aceste lucruri,
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poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Pieces Of You In A Pair Of Dreams (chapter one)
In a piece of my dreams
I've eroded you with my kisses
until there was nothing
nothing else to kiss but a perfumed soul,
but I was too late
for there were others before me
that left their marks by breaking bits of it
like they had the right of ruling over you
like kings.
I'd kill them if you'd let me,
but I think that you liked being their queen,
more than you like being mine.
Breaking the sun into a billion pieces
and hiding before anyone notice the disasters
I cause for you,
somehow became my ritual of love
in this sad sad autumn,
where pieces of you still hug me
like someone that cares
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poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Cuvinte
Sunt doar un baietel slabanog, ce inca se gandeste la fata ce l-a facut sa planga.
Imi amintesc cum atunci, in mintea ta ma aparai de cuvintele jignitoare
ale celor ce ti-au ramas prieteni,
acum cand eu nu-ti mai sunt.
Pana la urma, cred ca aveau dreptate
ca sunt prea urat pentru tine,
dar nu a fost doar atat
sunt mult mai multe lucruri
ce te fac sa te indoiesti, de iubirea mea
care infinita cat era ea
a venit prea tarziu in viata ta.
Ma indoiesc ca as fi putut face ceva mai mult pentru noi doi.
Eu nu am aur, asa cum au altii
si nu pot sa te fac regina.
In mintea mea esti doar o biata eroina, o corabie ce paraseste grabita
insula pe care a naufragiat in urma cu aproape sapte luni
intr-o noapte, cand era prea intuneric pentru stele
si de frica, te-ai lasat pacalita de sarutul meu sfios.
Eu am ramas aici, oare nu ma vezi?
Si de ce a trebuit sa-l iei si pe Vineri cu tine, nu am si eu dreptul la un prieten?
[...] Read more
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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