Nyt on yö. Minä kuljen yksin tyhjiä katuja. En tiedä, mihin olen menossa, hyvä kun tiedän mistä olen tulossa, ja ruumiissani soi tuhat kaunista ja voimakasta sävelmää, minun koko menneisyyteni, ja silmissäni loistavat tuhannen ihmisen silmät, silmien takana tuntemattomuus, tätä naista ei tunne kukaan, se ei ole vielä täysin syntynytkään, ei kukaan tiedä mitä se on tulevaisuudessa.
- Mirka Lattunen
El a întins spre mine o frunză ca o mână cu degete. Eu am întins spre el o mână ca o frunză cu dinţi. El a întins spre mine o ramură ca un braţ. Eu am întins spre el braţul ca o ramură. El schi-a înclinat spre mine trunchiul ca un umăr. Eu mi-am înclinat spre el umărul ca un trunchi noduros. Auzeam cum se încetineşte sângele meu suind ca seva. Eu am trecut prin el. El a trecut prin mine. Eu am rămas un pom singur. El un om singur
- Nichita Stănescu
Kunst ist nicht ein Spiegel, den man der Wirklichkeit vorhält, sondern ein Hammer, mit dem man sie gestaltet.
- Karl Marx
The Hermit’s Song
A hiding tuft, a green-barked yew tree Is my roof, While nearby a great oak tree keeps me Tempest-proof.
I can pick my fruit from an apple Like an Inn, Or can fill my fist where hazels Shut me in.
A clear well beside me offers Best of drink, And there glows a bed of cresses Near its brink.
Pigs and Goats, the friendliest neighbours, Nestle near, Wild swine come, or broods of badgers, Grazing deer.
All the gentry of the county Come to call! And the foxes come behind them, Best of all.
To what meals the woods invite me All about! There are water, herbs and cresses, Salmon, trout.
A clutch of eggs, sweet mast and honey Are my meat, Heathberries and Whortleberries For a sweet.
All that one could ask for comfort Round me grows, There are hips and haws and strawberries, Nuts and sloes.
And when summer spreads its mantle What a sight! Marjoram and leeks and pignuts, Juicy, bright.
Dainty redbreasts briskly forage Every bush Round and round my hut there flutter Shallow, thrush.
Bees and beetles, music-makers, Croon and strum; Geese pass over, duck in autumn, Dark streams hum.
Angry wren, officious linnet And black-cap, All industrious, and the woodpecker’s Sturdy tap.
From the sea the gulls and herons Flutter in, While in upland heather rises The grey hen.
In the year’s most brilliant weather Heifers low Through green fields, not driven nor beaten, Tranquil, slow.
In wreathed boughs the wind is whispering, Skies are blue, Swans call, river water falling Is calling too.
Last time I was visiting my mother, I got an irresistible impulse: Make a pig! Make a pig! Make a pig! Within a couple of hours, I had produced the most recent addition to my dysfunctional pig family. His name is Serpieri, after the Italian artist who has drawn classical "erotic" comics like Druuna.
He has now joined my two other pigs - Severiina, rescued from a second hand shop, and Sergei Jr., sewn by myself.
Mihai thought he looked really retarded, and wanted to play with him. Okay, so he was throwing Serpieri in the air, letting Serpieri "jump" through a ring (a chewing ring for dogs that he found somewhere in Austria), and then he started talking about how Serpieri probably wanted to fly a bit. Since Serpieri spends all his days on my bookshelf, gazing through the window over the streets and houses outside, he probably wished he could fly.
I assumed that Mihai was just trying to provoke me to wrestle with him, so I didn't take his suggestions too seriously. Until Serpieri took off. Through the window.
I looked down at the street, and Serpieri's first flying lesson hadn't gone so well ... he had landed on the sidewalk four floors below. (Luckily, he didn't hit anyone ...) I rushed out to rescue him, and while I was making my way down the never ending stairs, Mihai watched a couple pick him up, talk and laugh at him, and place him in the wrought iron decorations on the side of the house (to the right in the picture below). Mihai says that if they'd have attempted to kidnap Serpieri, he would have thrown Severiina at them.
After a moment I had finally gotten down, and could bring him back home again ... But Serpieri still dreams of flying.
siis mihai on ihan kauhee... voi pikku possua! heittää se ny ulos suureen maailmaan... ja kaikkien ihmisten töllöteltäväks, onneks meni piiloon puskaan. ja mitä te oikein touhuatte siellä? kaikkee te keksitte!!!! tai siis mihai...