It's known an image worth a thousand words...but how do we measure it in unspoken words ? In non-words or unwords or "necuvinte" as a famous Romanian poet wrote about ? And what is the point of having words if we can express so much better in images ?
In reality, we cannot replace or compare words (even unspoken) with images...There is nothing to replace the sound of a forest when the wind is gently touching the leaves....or a mountain water finding it's way down...or the fluttering wings of a butterfly looking for colours to land on...Going back to nature, we "inhale" these sounds and keep within us, like a sweet mystery...Some reminds us of childhood, some remind us of an impossible love and some of too soon broken dreams...but they all have a timeless echo inside...
Find below a remarkable poem of Nichita Stănescu, I grew up in the sound of his non-words...
|El a întins spre mine o frunză ca o mână cu degete.
Eu am întins spre el o mână ca o frunză cu dinţi.
El a întins spre mine o ramură ca un braţ.
Eu am întins spre el braţul ca o ramură.
El şi-a înclinat spre mine trunchiul
ca un măr.
Eu am inclinat spre el umărul
ca un trunchi noduros.
Auzeam cum se-nţeteşte seva lui bătând
Auzea cum se încetineşte sângele meu suind ca seva.
Eu am trecut prin el.
El a trecut prin mine.
Eu am rămas un pom singur.
un om singur.
|t thrust out a leaf like a hand with fingers towards me.
I thrust out a hand like a leaf with teeth towards it.
It thrust out a branch like an arm towards me.
I thrust out an arm like a branch towards it.
It leaned its trunk towards me
like an apple.
I leaned my shoulder towards it
like a gnarled tree trunk.
I heard its sap hasten, drumming
It heard my blood slow down, climbing like sap.
I passed through it.
It passed through me.
I remained a solitary tree.
a solitary man.