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Valeriu Butulescu

I am glad I am still able to cry.

aphorism by from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. ZiemReport problemRelated quotes
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Be Glad That You Are In Pain Now....

know what, my dear,
there are more poems in pain

pleasure
does not give you much

happiness
is nothing but complacency
in waiting

be glad,
are you still in pain?

be joyful amidst this struggle to be set free
from the
pain of
loneliness,

oh, i can attest to its
truth,

its unrecognized usefulness
for our
very own
spiritual growth,

this cleansing,
this purification

where happiness in the face of an accounting
becomes so bare

that it amounts to nothing.

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So Glad

I left my baby
I bought a ticket for the train
I waited all day long
But the train never came
And I was so glad
I was so glad
The train never came
The reason I was leaving
Was all because of sin
I didnt want to do it
But I was sucked in
And I was so sad
I was so bad
I didnt go home
I was out with the boys
Drinking all night
Gambling all my money
Got into a fight
And I cried for my baby
But my baby never came
Sirens were a wailing
And I stepped off of the train
I picked up my bags
And started down the road
The night was drawing in now
And I was getting cold
And I was so glad
I was so glad
She was still home
Ill never go out with the boys
Drinking all night
Im saving all my money
Never getting in a fight
And Ill stay with my baby
Never leaving her alone
Im keeping outta trouble
So Ill be staying at home
Ill be so glad
Were both still home
Were both still home
Were both still home
Staying at home
Staying at home
Were both still home

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Po Chu-i, Ancient Governor - 772-846 CE, From Far Away Thinks On His Angry Wife

Of Po Chu-i: 'As one of his poems explains,
he suffered from paralysis at the end of his
life, one leg becoming useless.'


'A well-fed contentment...
is there no greater achievement in life? '

Her heavy face displaces among
clouds, is swollen with hard tears,
her sorrowful gaze calls for the
always hungry child that was lost
when they were poor, without work
and down on luck. The frozen ground
reluctantly yields these many years
to slowly make his little grave,
too long unmarked.

It now wears a monument tall, of finest jade.

'Too late for you, Little Stinger, '
he carves it himself, again and again,
years now, upon the stone,

'A well-fed contentment...'
and all the rest, but in his
mind it is never done.

'Old Po Chu-i, ' he thinks to himself,
writing another verse in his head,
his own epitaph upon the other side
of the jade-stone, 'now rides a wild
horse to the end of all roads.'

Weary with the business of state.
Of commerce he can now care less
though he once was poor and
one dear son has died as a result,

'Pffftt! Old wife will never let me forget.'

'Of pleasing the inconsolable, '
he writes such in his head,
upon horseback, in the mane
and the tail poems wait to be
untangled, brushed smooth
with the ink and quill of miles
until there is some rest,
a cozy inn rare, more a tent
pitched which gives much simple
peace compared to the mansion
back home in the wealthy province,
the ponds full, the barns full,
the servants many and busy,
all the fruit of miles traveled
to keep the fragile peace which
needs constant mending,

'much like a wife.'

'It is as it is, and should be, '
he thinks, 'it is of love these
conditions come, bringing many
mouths and fuller hearts to break,
for love like life seeks to be
undone again and again.'

'Such is the life the Allotter
gives. Why complain when one
has the gift of a patient horse,
steady, an obedient, good companion? '

'Why lament when eyes are still
able to rejoice at beauty of all
kinds, for even of human woes
which break the heart much music
can be made, and without false pity.'

'And without false pity, ' he sings,
'a coin can be given and heaven
restored until the next pang of
hunger, from this real friendship
with strangers is born, the best,
of gentleness without debt,
untangling from mane to mind.'

'Untangling from mane to mind,
one finds, takes, such real
pleasures as they come and,
thanking the glad day, banks
them in the vaulted heart.'

Not given to self-pity, only
fond of nostalgic reminiscence,
he loves fabrics smooth, soft,
purchased in Yangshao, where
he loves the Spring's First
Blossom Girl with whom he grew
up, courting her near the auspicious
old well of Silk Moths Aplenty.

He thinks of these and many things
upon his horse during the long journey
through the difficult passages,

'Through the difficult passages
one cannot avoid accumulating
much dust, ' he composes out
loud for the horse to hear,
'perhaps our only wealth,
dear friend, of friendless miles.'

He rests awhile in the wide
orchard where bright plum flowers
rain, decides to unroll his pallet
to sleep beside the humming glade.

'Raiment, ' he writes in his sleepy head,
'of bees and leaves. An old man puts the
best plum in his sleeve to bring home
to his wife.'

'Why strive when nature is bounteous
and all ills can be made right with
wet sweetness? '

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I went on and was still able to play some good hockey.

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I love Marvel and the people there. I'm glad I'm still part of it.

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And uh, I'm glad that I still have my hands and my eyes to work with.

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Rosario Dawson

They kind of took it out of our hands. We're still able to deal with him on an emotional level.

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Oh Mom

oh mom
has nothing
good to talk
about me
even my poetry

but thank god
at least she is
still able to talk

and that's
a blessing
to me

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But it's funny that now I'm in such a happy situation, I look more objectively at my own past and see what others have seen for a long time and I'm just so glad I've been able to get to this point.

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I have always maintained a high level of fitness, and that is why I am still able to handle the demands of playing in the Premiership. People have always commented on my fitness, and it's something I pride myself on.

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It was like I was in a tunnel. Not only the tunnel under the hotel but the whole circuit was a tunnel. I was just going and going, more and more and more and more. I was way over the limit but still able to find even more.

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Another Me

You can get my honest smile
You can get my angry bark
But you can’t get more than that

You can take my time
Take as much as you want
But I’ll be still able to dream

You can have my freedom
Have my soul too on your hand
But you can’t force my heart

You can read my mind
You can control my life
But I will never be another me

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Old age is a frame of mind

I saw my only son today
and noted to my great dismay
his hair is now completely grey.
I think that this must be Natures way
of pointing out I’m older too.
A fact with which I can’t argue.
That does not mean I should not do
the things that I’m still able to.
I lack the youthful energy
I used to squander wastefully
But what I have I use wisely.
I am not old; refuse to be.
The passing years I just ignore
don’t even count them anymore.

30-Jan-08

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Candle light...

Candle light, oh candle light,
Why do you shine so bright?
I can not touch, no I can not touch you,
But you always light up my life.

Candle light, my candle light,
I'm glad you are still in my sight,
Even a wind would come, or a rain fall down,
Please don't disappear from my sight!

I don't expect you to shine so bright often,
I don't expect you to light up my life,
I only want you to be you... and be happy with that,
Coz I know no one can match your light!

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Changes

The Dark Delaware on my left
The defunct canal on my right
And me in the middle of both.
I’m heading south on the towpath
Peddling my hybrid all the way.
As to where? I haven’t a clue
It doesn’t really matter where
Just as long as I’m still able to
Peddle along this special place.
I’ve biked here since I was a kid.
Two things have changed since that time:
Back then I had a three speed Schwinn
Today I have twenty-one speeds;
Back then I was young, today… old.

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Imagine

Maybe you are already too old
Maybe you are not a child anymore
But let's imagine

Maybe you say this is a harsh world
Maybe you say I'm a naive person
But could you imagine?

Maybe it is ridiculous
Maybe it will never come true
But it's good to imagine

Maybe reality will never be like a dream
Maybe it just a temporary escape machine
But I want still able to imagine

Maybe about a fantasy land full of adventure
Maybe just a comfort and peaceful life
But take a breath and bravely imagine

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Seperate Reality

You came from a non-physical reality.
We won't ask you to act accordingly
until your 'tuning' to the frequency
is complete.
We will not expect you to compete.

You will return to
a non-physical reality
when your body meets it's demise
no matter what you think you cannot do.

Is the lesson complete?
There is only one test for the answer...
if you are still able
to draw another breath, it's not.

It is the belief in what you cannot see
that is what you need...
and nothing that you're convinced
you've got.

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Hi

Nosy ass!
I tried to surprise you.
But nothing I do,
Gets by you.
What do you have...
Radar too?

Do I carry a 'scent' you sniff?
Whenever I'm near...
Close or present?
And where were you anyway...
When I thought I was sneaking through?
Hiding somewhere,
To see what I would do?

Hi...
Nosy ass!
Here's your gift!
The one you selected.
The one I said I would not get!
Well...
Here it is!
You are worse than the kids!

I'm glad we are still together though.
And another year God has blessed us
To see pass!

Give me a kiss!
Nosy ass.

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970: Discussion...

Your want of discussion, amuses me,
I had a longing for them, way back in time,
You had only one answer then,
Destiny, destiny and destiny,

God helps those who help themselves,
You needed no help then, hence no actions,
My cries never reached you, you went deaf,
Today I don’t cry, as dead as beef,

I always said zero or one,
You wont let me go, nor would you come,
You are a random variable,
Distributed, frozen but still able,

Today my life’s all dried up,
My love, respect, hatred all in a cup,
Poisonous mix I will die from,
Having lost my home, I live in a dorm.

(June 5,2006)

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The Need To Write

There's not one day that I let slip away
without my pen having something to say.
I feel it. I say it. I let it come out,
whatever it is, whatever it's about.

Laughter, pain and really deep thought
gives way to emotions that seem to be caught
in a spidery web that weaves its way
into silky distractions that interplay.

So when I settle my exhaustive brain
I'm amazed that I'm still able to remain
anxious to write again tomorrow
on topics of happiness, grief and sorrow.

Where it will take me I don't know.
They seem to be endless even though
I know someday my ink will run dry.
And on that day my thoughts will die.

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