Insomnie
Nu dorm…nu mai reusesc sa dorm, nu mai pot…nici macar cu bautura nu pot dormi…ma trezesc la ore imposibile, desi ma culc foarte tarziu…e o moarte mica si chinuitoare care vine in fiecare seara si-mi fute tot sistemul…si ma gandesc la atatea lucruri incat ajung sa nu ma mai gandesc la nimic…e joi…nu trebuie sa ma mai gandesc la nimic…nu vreau sa ma mai gandesc la nimic…
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Daca te gandesti la atat de multe lucruri e posibil sa fie o insomnie cauzata de efortul anumitor ganduri de a ramane vii.
Incearca sa le pui in siguranta pe o foaie de hartie. Cine stie… poate te vor lasa sa dormi daca stiu ca dimineata le vei gasi pe birou.
unele ganduri nu pot fi asternute pe hartie
Ok… atunci… poate te ajuta poezia asta:
You Worry Too Much
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say,
I make you feel dizzy.
Of a little headache then,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your antelope.
Of seeing a lion here and there
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say, I am your moon-faced beauty.
Of the cycles of the moon and
passing of the years,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your source of passion,
I excite you.
Of playing into the Devils hand,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Look at yourself,
what you have become.
You are now a field of sugar canes,
why show that sour face to me?
You have tamed the
winged horse of Love.
Of a death of a donkey,
why do you worry?
You say that I keep you warm inside.
Then why this cold sigh?
You have gone to the roof of heavens.
Of this world of dust, why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Since you met me,
you have become a master singer,
and are now a skilled wrangler,
you can untangle any knot.
Of life’s little leash
why do you worry?
Your arms are heavy
with treasures of all kinds.
About poverty,
why do you worry?
You are Joseph,
beautiful, strong,
steadfast in your belief,
all of Egypt has become drunk
because of you.
Of those who are blind to your beauty,
and deaf to your songs,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say that your housemate is the
Heart of Love,
she is your best friend.
You say that you are the heat of
the oven of every Lover.
You say that you are the servant of
Ali’s magical sword, Zolfaghar.
Of any little dagger
why do you still worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You are the security,
the shelter of the spirit of Lovers.
Oh the sultan of sultans,
of any other king,
why do you worry?
Be silent, like a fish,
and go into that pleasant sea.
You are in deep waters now,
of life’s blazing fire.
Why do you worry?