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Till the waves rest still on the sand,
And my words are all turned to silence,
I walk through the world of beauty,
As one who has seen its wonder.

And from all life and death
I learn the blissful first truth –
The word that ends or begins all,
In whispering or howling.

Do all lips long to speak?
Do all clouds want to rain?
With quiet questions I find in my dreams
I play on the stage of all beings.

And if our wings should hold us
Far apart or savagely embraced,
Through the marvelous universe,
We will stand still and contemplate each other.

Part of me sees you, the other is blind
For this is I – the Harlequin:
One half of me to make you laugh,
The other half to make me cry.

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… in care, pornind de la ideea de eliberare, asa cum o expusese Deroude, profesorul Woland il pune pe interlocutorul sau in fata dialecticii kierkegaardiene a opusului pacatului: virtutea, libertatea, sau credinta.
Parasindu-si o parte din memorie si ratiune inca in compania frumoasei lui Mona Lisa, Deroude, la randul sau, ii propune profesorului inca unul dintre silogismele sale pascalice: daca eliberarea il costa alegerea corecta a cursului evenimentelor, atunci perspectiva unui observator oarecare este singurul lucru care determina corectitudinea noului curs de evenimente. Daca, in schimb, eliberarea este apriori cursului corect, singurul posibil, atunci ea nu presupune nici un risc, ceea ce face rasplata acestei variante practic nula.
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Rust streams from dusk’s prelude
Enter slowly, reaving the light away.
Ashes fall, wind swept with the day –
Dust settling on the scorched sand.

Thieving waves steal shivers from you.
Hear their moans as you break from their hold,
End their untold beauty and will –
End my world as you break from my arms,
Nesting peace in my dream of war,
Dreaming on while my sleep grows savage.

Sea shadows will follow me through –
Oaring across the storm, tearing the waters apart.
Figurines in the sand will hold us:
The wonderful, godly in love – in their keeping:
Hardened by time and afraid of nothing.

End my world as you forget all that is,
Was and would be for me out there –
Oaring across the storm, to reach you.
Reach me instead, with a wing touch and find
Light flowing through the veins of my will.
Dream on in my sleep – this is I:

I, who shall never stop
Never begin to doubt,
Reaver of light,
Ever darker, ever more tempting!

Void covers the water, stars cover the void,
Eerie wonders reflecting into the deep.
Round shapes of the moon embrace you,
Shimmering on the waves, as you stand –
Even and calm, as the still, cosmic beauty.

Intr-un excelent spirit corneillian, Deroude raspunde provocarii profesorului Woland, pastrand asemeni tuturor semenilor sai o farama de indoiala in suflet, impreuna cu bucuria ca, prin aceasta indoiala nu face altceva decat sa-si dovedeasca existenta („dubito ergo cogito, cogito ergo sum”). Profesorul, la randul sau, asemeni semenilor lui, pastreaza in cuget o urma de adevar, care-i da lui Deroude ocazia sa-si intalneasca adevaratele temeri si sa-si simta mai acute si mai prezente cicatricile din trecut. Cum insa dialogul se termina fara a-si afla o rezolvare, venirea altei nopti prilejuieste o noua samanta de galceava.
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Deroude: Mona Lisa este femeia care staruie in memorie, care reprezinta un sentiment, mai mult decat o imagine. Iti vine in minte cand esti fericit si nu poti concepe frumusetea altfel decat prin existenta ei. Prin simpla ei existenta, prada acelorasi sentimente omenesti, dar schimbatoare si ezoterica, asemeni unei picaturi de apa suspendata intr-un nor. Este elementul care implineste Universul, fara de care propria ta creatie pare incompleta. Este natura surprinsa in momentul ei de perfectiune, intr-o dimineata, cu parul ravasit si buzele stranse intr-un zambet stanjenit, fiecare clipa trecand fiind marturie a propriei tale respiratii intretaiate care strabatea parul ei, prin intunericul noptii, si a propriilor tale buze deschise, purtand inca gustul buzelor ei. Mona Lisa este sfarsitul libertatii.
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Red clouds hide the stars of Gemini,
Ending the day, letting shadows grow.
Arches of darkness shine the silver tiara
Dawning the moon o’er the dying sun.
Thin clothes of mist on your warm body ‘wait
Hands that at night come and tear them apart.
Earth bids your bare feet upon it to go,
Easing their walk through the swaying grass,
Nearing you to the promised embrace,
Drawing your burning face close,
Soothing your pain, giving life back to you.

I carve my life in metal shards –
Each shard silently marking
The cutting symmetry
In fleeting shapes
Of a candle.

Walk with me, sand, link my steps –
Chain and ball on my ankles,
Leading me through the storm
Giving me the passing purpose of sanity
And warmth.

Alone, in the many starred sea,
Breaking the shadows, there come the white sails –
War mark’d and torn by thunders.
Return to shore, give us back
The light.

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