Ana Blandiana

FELUL CUM PLOUA

POATE sa vi se para ciudat, puteti sa nu ma credeti, dar atunci cand vreau sa cunosc cu adevarat un om, il privesc cu atentie si incerc sa-mi imaginez felul cum ploua in jurul lui. Exista o intuitie care nu ma inşeala insa niciodata si care imi sugereaza mai exact decat cele mai exacte probe ceea ce vreau sa stiu. Sunt oameni in jurul carora ploaia cade copilaroasa, cu clabuci si zarva nestapanita, facand sa creasca ciupercile si sa scoata coarne bouresti melcii; sunt alţti in jurul carora ploaia se deseneaza discret ca o fina hasura, ca un voal subtire ce fosneste matasos si face stresinile sa cante abia auzit; pe unii ii invauie ca o retea invulnerabila, ca niste implacabile riduri ale vazduhului, fara zgomot si fara sfarsit; pe altii ii impodobeste cu serpentinele ei colorate, incurcandu-i in liniile lungi, pline de haz; unora le atinge obrazul si-l face mai frumos, li se agata de gene si straluceste in picuri instabili; altora li se curge prin par si pe gat murdarindu-i, facandu-i sa tremure si sa-si stranga in jurul gatului bietul fular, injosindu-i, uratindu-i. N-as putea sa explic de ce, poate ca totul se datorste marii sensibilitati a ploii, capacitatii ei de a se adapta si de a reacţtona prompt, dar nimic nu caracterizeaza mai bine un om decat felul in care stie sa faca ploaia sa plouă. In cate nesfarsite game se misca sunetele ei, ce culori diferite neasteptate poate sa schimbe, in cate forme se lasa modelata si ce sentimente contrare poate sa oglindeasca aceeasi pictura de ploaie! Camp de studiu, fantastic instrument de cunoaştere, joc pasionat, calauză, cheie a tainelor, parul de apa al cerului se impleteste pentru mine mereu altfel, lasandu-ma sa ghicesc in el – asa cum anticii ghiceau in maruntaiele pasarilor.
 

Daniel Bran

Ana Blandiana

THE WAY IT RAINS

IT MAY appear queer to you, you might not believe me, but when I want to truly know somebody, I look at him carefully and I try to imagine how the rain falls around him.
But there is an intuition that is never wrong which suggests me even more precisely than most precise tests what I really want to know. There are people around whom the rain falls very childlike, with foam and uncontained noise, that makes mushrooms grow and snails take out their ox-like horns; there are others around whom the rain dances discreetly like a thin veil that rustles silken and makes the eaves sing very softly; it surrounds some like an invulnerable web, just like some implacable wrinkles of the sky, noiseless and endless; others it enriches with its colourful serpentines, tangling them in long lines full of fun; to some it touches their cheek and makes it more beautiful, it sticks to their eyelashes and it shines in unstable droplets; to others it flows through their hair and along their necks messing them up, making them shiver and tying their poor scarf around their necks, uglifying them. I can not explain why, maybe everything is like this because of the great sensibility of the rain, its capacity to adapt and to react promptly, but nothing characterizes a man better than the way he knows how to make the rain. In how endless scales do its sounds move, in what different and unexpected colours it can change, in how many ways it lets herself modified and what contrary feelings can be reflected from the same rain painting! Study field, a fantastic instrument of learning, passionate game, guide, key to mysteries, the skies watery hair intervenes for me in a different way each time, letting me read it – just like ancients used to tell fortunes in the birds entrails.