NICOLAE SILADE: A Distinguished International Poet from ROMANIA
Nicolae Silade
Shikdar Mohammed Kibriah
Dear members, you know that we have been
introducing the poets of our contemporary world by a declaration of the
president, Poetry and Literature World Vision as a part of our mission of
promoting poetry across the world. Today I'd like to present here an awarded
and translated eminent published poet and journalist of internationally repute
who is NICOLAE SILADE from Romania. Let's be introduced with him, read his
poetries and welcome him warmly.
Nicolae Silade, date of birth:
04.12.1956, is both a poet and a journalist. He was the editor-in-chief at
„Lugojul” between 1991-1997, since 1997 he is the founder and director of the
newspaper „Actualitatea” as well as of the magazine „Actualitatea literară”. He has published poems in literary magazines in Romania, Austria,
France, Germany, Spain, Serbia, Israel, Canada, USA. His poetry books are:
Dream at Work (1979), The Book of Poets (collective volume), 1994, walking
ahead (1997), a woman called eternity (2006), love does not knock on the door -
part I (2013), love does not knock on the door
part II (2016), miniepistoles (2017), calea victoriei (2019), La
guérison d'illusions et autres guérisons (2020), [despre] (2020), everest
(2020). His poems have been translated into English, French, German, Spanish,
Hungarian, Chinese and Hebrew.
Awards: The Grand Prize at the Poetry
Festival from Sighetul Marmației 2018, the Prize of the Literary Creation Festival
“Avangarda XXII”, the Prize of the Latin Orient Magazine 2014 etc.
Nicolae Silade
0744.575.853
actualitatea
actualitatea literară
nicolaesilade.blogspot.com
Actualitatea
Actualitatea literară
actualitatealiterara@yahoo.com
ziarulactualitatea@yahoo.com
Poems by Nicolae Silade:
everest
„To be, or not to be, that is the question”
William Shakespeare
I
tom harvey won a porche 911 carrera gts
sold it and won another one in two days
a woman from austria bought dresses off
the internet and got a 500.000 euro drug package
mayor jorge luis escandon was forced out
of the town hall his hands tied with rope and dragged by a lorry on the streets
of santa rita because he didnt keep his
electoral campaign promises meaning he didnt repair a local road in the town
a young woman from romania marvelously
beautiful offered herself to the rifleman
after her boyfriend was caught driving
with no license
this is the world we now live in
i sit here on the shore of cerna in a 4 x
4 room with a fridge in a corner a heater in the other and watch a netflix
movie
nextdoor is ceaușescus residence where he never
lived but oh my god what parties with hookers would his pals throw there
from time to time i go outside on the
terrace to have a coffee a cigarette and i look
at the ruins over the road ruins of
posthumanism I tell myself
a wallnut leaf falls down at my feet i
lift it up and study it carefully then i let it go down the stream
this water has been flowing for thousands
of years i tell myself
these mountains have been standing
motionless for thousands of years i tell myself
what is better
to flow or to stand
petrified like mihai eminescus statue
or restless like the crowd that walks to
and fro on the red bridge
II
the chirping of birds is enough to bring
you to reality the murmur of a stream flowing ceaselessly a sun ray seen from
behind a snowy mountain after a night that lasted milleniums and it is like a
spring that comes for the first time like a return to the paradise from which
you banished yourself and you begin to see begin to hear gods voice through the
trees in the garden that is how you start with a
return to yourself after wasting yourself
on worldly matters climbing the everest
within you people yes people as carl sandburg says are walt whitmans leaves of
grass pascals thinking reeds they sand
wonders until there is nothing left of them they veil simplicity under a pile
of trinkets it is not easy to give up on them but for a meeting with
god its worth it giving up on yourself to
win yourself back and people yes people want to be richer than others more
powerful than others more advanced than
others higher than others i havent seen people who want to be kinder than
others more loving than others wiser i havent seen people who want to be more
humane than humans and no
you dont have to climb the everest to be
on top of the world you have to conquer the everest within you to be and to
begin to be when you begin to understand and your beggining is the beggining of
the world and is like a spring that
comes for the first time in this petrified world where you are movement itself
in this moving world in which you stand as still as the statue of mihai
eminescu
III
early in the morning long before dawn
when public lights are to be turned off
at six oclock and they turn off precisely at six oclock
when the horn of the moon still hangs
from the white cross of the domogled like a gingerbread cookie in the christmas
tree
when on the path of the forest a white
cat rummages through the withered leaves of last summer
when wastemen bang the garbage bins full
of yesterdays powder and dust and remains
when rays of light rise like a miracle
over the mountain tops nearby
when the birds start chanting their
morning mass
and the murmur of the water makes itself
heard yet again
when you wake up to reality and see
that reality is not what can be seen
when between thought and sight
there stands the miracle that makes you
be
when you have to choose
between the work of man
and the work of god
when you find out that the surroundings
are your brother
and father and surrounding son
why keep on waiting for the sunrise
when the sunrise of the world is you
IV
then i saw myself climbing up and down 55
steps daily going in a spiral down the stairs of a suburbs block of flats among
the screams of joy of restless childrens & the misery of old men turing
within and without myself more and more revolted exulted on the staircase i saw
myself climbing up and down between
sunrise and the days happy ending to
admire the happy mans work to admire lords work i saw myself in room 9 the new
room from the new residence near the spring where romans are still passing by
with dacian women and queen mary and empress sissi and king charles the first i
saw myself at the yellow pavilion the green foyer on the spring street on
chestnuts street
between the birth of the blessed virgin
mary church and the transfiguration of jesus church walking up and down the
shore up and down and up and down going to the seven springs up and down
towards the sea the great sea on the two roads that lead to a yellow forest yes
the golden forest of robert frost down the road winding through rocks up the
road winding through firs towards the bandits cave
i saw myself turning into a bandit and
coming back from doing what a bandit does I spend the night in womens beds they
come in my bed I saw myself being don juan don quijote and in rostov-on-don and
king and clown and tall and small and naive wise pharaoh and budist emperor
proletarian and jew and communist the earths most beloved son and the most
loving yes I saw myself because in each of you I see myself
like a „v” from victory where all the
wonders of the worlds gather like in a cornucopia
like a „v” from victory doing a 180 like
a pyramid from the top of which the sun rises
this stone from the vertex of the angle
this pyre on fire that burns without going out it burns without going out
this is how this rock on which i build my house on is
my house of words
what did you think?
that I like your summer palaces your
guarded citadels your castles from spain
i prefer living in a cave a hut an
igloo in uncle toms cabin
in the icy hotel from bâlea lake in a
countryhouse or a waste land
in a 4X4 room with a fridge in a corner
and a heater in the other
on the shore of a mountain river or the
seaside
i prefer living inside myself
and if you see me in rome paris istanbul
in the sixtin chapel on champs elysees or
in saint sophia church
if you see me in vienna new york or
moscow
in prater manhattan kremlin
if you see me in cairo atena beijing
at the pyramid of cheops in the temple of
zeus or the forbidden city
if you see me in the doges palace in
corvins castle
or in the peoples house
why can you not see me in myself
