{"id":2787,"date":"2011-08-21T08:36:34","date_gmt":"2011-08-21T14:36:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/?p=2787"},"modified":"2011-08-21T11:54:49","modified_gmt":"2011-08-21T17:54:49","slug":"poeme-din-exil-de-n-s-govora","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/?p=2787","title":{"rendered":"Poeme din Exil de N. S. Govora"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\"\"<\/a>

Troi\u0163\u0103<\/p><\/div>\n

Din vol. Poeme fara Tar\u0103<\/strong> – Acolo \u015fezum \u015fi pl\u00e2nsem<\/em>, Ed. Carpa\u0163ii, Madrid 1954<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Adun\u0103-\u0163i sufletul, camarade<\/h3>\n
Copiii mei, copiii mei,<\/em><\/span>
\nC\u00e2nd merge\u0163i seara la culcare,<\/em><\/span>
\n\u015ei candelele’n tremurare<\/em><\/span>
\nV\u0103 ning pe cre\u015ftete v\u0103paia,<\/em><\/span>
\nRuga\u0163i-v\u0103 \u015fi pentru cei<\/em><\/span>
\nCare-au c\u0103zut la Turtucaia.<\/em><\/span>
\n(G. Tutoveanu)<\/em><\/span><\/div>\n

C\u00e2nd exilul devine ap\u0103s\u0103tor cenu\u015fiu
\nG\u00e2ndi\u0163i-v\u0103 la mor\u0163ii f\u0103r\u0103 cruce, f\u0103r\u0103 sicriu.
\n\u015ei c\u00e2nd \u00ee\u015fi \u00eenfige cu\u0163itul \u00een voi nostalgia,
\nG\u00e2ndi\u0163i-v\u0103 la cei care-au c\u0103zut \u00een Rusia.
\n<\/p>\n

\u015etiu, \u00een camerele \u00een care fereastra se deschide ca o rug\u0103ciune spre cer,
\nSunt momente \u00een care \u015fi amintirile se estompeaz\u0103 \u015fi pier.
\n\u015ei chiar pe Icoana Patriei se a\u015feaz\u0103 o cea\u0163\u0103, un fum,
\n\u00cen ore t\u00e2rzii, \u00een care n\u0103dejdile toate, sunt doar zdren\u0163e \u015fi scrum.<\/p>\n

Te v\u0103d camarade; pumnul \u0163i-a devenit dur, ca o cremene, ca un ciocan,
\nTe-a otr\u0103vit o imagine: so\u0163ia culcat\u0103 cu altul, \u00een salona\u015f, pe divan.
\nTrupul \u0163i s’a str\u00e2ns ca un arc \u015fi via\u0163a devine-o povar\u0103.
\nO, \u00een asemenea clipe, de-ai avea cel pu\u0163in o \u0163igar\u0103!\u00a0<\/p>\n

Ninge! Pe geamul de la mansard\u0103 z\u0103pada cre\u015fte mereu,
\n\u00cencepi s\u0103 te \u00eendoie\u015fti c\u0103 mai exist\u0103 undeva, Dumnezeu.
\n\u015ei e\u015fti s\u0103tul de via\u0163\u0103, de toate c’ai vrea,
\nS\u0103 dispari, cum de pe firmament dispare \u00een goluri, o stea.
\n\u00a0
\n\u015etiu camarade, sunt clipe \u00een care pribegia te fr\u00e2nge,
\nSperan\u0163a, ca o candel\u0103 \u00een care s’a terminat uleiul, se st\u00e2nge.
\nG\u00e2nde\u015fte-te atuncia cum url\u0103 criv\u0103\u0163ul pe coline, pe v\u0103i
\n\u015ei cum troiene\u015fte pe mormintele camarazilor t\u0103i.<\/p>\n

\u00a0Adun\u0103-\u0163i sufletul risipit \u015fi inima ca pas\u0103re \u00eenvins\u0103, r\u0103nit\u0103.
\nSufletul acesta al t\u0103u, e explosiv, dinamit\u0103.
\n\u00cen tine e n\u0103dejdea celor c\u0103zu\u0163i \u015fi a celor din Patria \u00een care b\u00e2ntuie\u015fte urgia,
\n\u00cen tine \u015fi \u00een cei care s’au b\u0103tut viteje\u015fte’n Rusia.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\nG\u00e2nduri la morm\u00e2ntul lui Cri\u015fu Axente<\/h3>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n
Moartea \u015fi-a f\u00e2lf\u00e2it aripa neagr\u0103 peste noi,
\nCopii blestema\u0163i ai acestui secol smintit.
\nTe-ai scuturat f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 fi avut timpul s\u0103 fi rodit,
\nCa florile peste care au c\u0103zut neguri \u015fi ploi. <\/p>\n

Nici o femeie nu te urmeaz\u0103 acum c\u00e2nd urci ultima treapt\u0103,
\nFemeile care te-au iubit, te-au uitat demult sau au murit.
\nNumai acolo departe \u00een ora\u015ful \u00eentre zarz\u0103ri pitit,
\nO mam\u0103 se roag\u0103 pentru tine \u00een fiecare zi \u015fi a\u015fteapt\u0103.<\/p>\n

Prietenii \u0163i-au \u00eembr\u0103cat co\u015fciugul \u00een cele trei culori
\nLa piept \u0163i-au pus o \u015fuvi\u0163\u0103 de p\u0103r pe care au decolorat-o anii.
\nImaginea \u0162\u0103rii \u00een care \u00eenfloresc magheranii,
\n\u00ce\u0163i \u00eenf\u0103\u015foar\u0103 trupul trudit de lag\u0103re \u015fi de \u00eenchisori.
\n\u00a0
\nDe-acuma cobori cu voluptate \u00een marile lini\u015fti,
\nNu-\u0163i va fi nici foame, nici dor \u015fi nici sete de dreptate.
\nAnii \u00ee\u015fi vor purta nep\u0103sarea peste morminte uitate,
\nCum \u00ee\u015fi poart\u0103 toamna norii, peste umbrele groase pe miri\u015fti.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00cen toate min\u0163ile o \u00eentrebare otr\u0103vit\u0103 se toarce,
\nC\u00e2nd peste cosciug \u00eencep s\u0103 cad\u0103 bulg\u0103rii de p\u0103m\u00e2nt.
\nE \u00eentrebarea ce \u00een prim\u0103vara iberic\u0103 vine pe aripi de v\u00e2nt:
\nC\u00e2\u0163i oare, c\u00e2\u0163i dintre noi s’or \u00eentoarce?\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u015ei c\u00e2nd peste c\u00e2teva ore, peste ora\u015ful str\u0103in se v\u00e2ntur\u0103 sara,
\nCopiii secolului smintit \u00ee\u015fi las\u0103 capul pe m\u00e2ni.
\nPeste c\u00e2teva zile, peste c\u00e2teva s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2ni,
\nMoartea va avea o recolt\u0103 bogat\u0103: pribegii mor prim\u0103vara.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\nMarea c\u0103l\u0103torie<\/h3>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n
\u015etiu \u00eentr’o noapte de var\u0103, fulgerat voi c\u0103dea.
\nPe cerul de sineal\u0103 va tremura ca o lum\u00e2nare o stea.
\nM\u00e2inile vor scormoni \u00eenfiorate \u00een lut,
\nCa o ap\u0103 va g\u00e2lg\u0103i s\u00e2ngele, din trupul c\u0103zut. <\/p>\n

V\u00e2ntul \u00eemi va aduce pe aripi, miresme de acas\u0103,
\n\u015ei gr\u00e2ul va fi moale ca un covor de m\u0103tas\u0103.
\n\u00cen juru-mi macii vor fi ro\u015fii, ca o gur\u0103 de fat\u0103,
\nCe mia-a z\u00e2mbit undeva, \u00eentr’o \u0163ara \u00eendep\u0103rtat\u0103.<\/p>\n

C\u00e2nd peste pleoape, moartea se va l\u0103sa ca o cea\u0163\u0103,
\nSpicele verzi ale gr\u00e2ului, \u00eemi vor luneca peste fa\u0163\u0103,
\n\u015ei’n pragul marei cal\u0103torii, \u00een fulgerarea clipitei,
\nAm s\u0103 z\u00e2mbesc c\u0103ci voi crede, c\u0103 e m\u00e2na iubitei.<\/p>\n

O! Nu mi-e fric\u0103 de moarte, de gloan\u0163e, de s\u00e2nge
\nDar mi-e team\u0103 c\u0103 nimeni \u00een urm\u0103-mi n’o pl\u00e2nge.
\n\u015ei mi-e team\u0103 c\u0103 fata cu gura ca macii din \u0163ara aceia din Apus,
\nM\u0103 va uita chiar din clipa \u00een care, \u00een marea c\u0103l\u0103torie-oi fi dus.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

Denie<\/h3>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n
\u00cen noaptea parfumat\u0103 de April,
\nMi-e sufletul moale, cuvios de copil.
\n\u015ei cu pa\u015fi m\u0103run\u0163ei, cu bunicul de m\u00e2n\u0103
\nM\u0103’ndrept c\u0103tre biserica noastr\u0103 str\u0103bun\u0103. <\/p>\n

T\u0103m\u00e2ia \u00ee\u015fi \u00eenal\u0163\u0103 fumul la cer,
\nIn atmosfera grea de credin\u0163\u0103 \u015fi de mister.
\n\u015ei inimile se simt p\u0103trunse de sfin\u0163enie,
\nC\u00e2nd bat clopotele, clopotele de denie.<\/p>\n

O, clopotele acestea sonore, clopotele,
\nCare fac s\u0103-\u015fi \u00eente\u0163easc\u0103 \u00een mine durerile, ropotele.
\nClopotele pe care, furat de al vie\u0163ii tumult,
\nM’am desv\u0103\u0163at sa le mai \u00een\u0163eleg, s\u0103 le mai ascult.<\/p>\n

Ele bat \u00een noaptea aceasta \u015fi pe aici,
\nC\u00e2nd c\u0103tre biserici se \u00eendreapt\u0103 cu pa\u015fi m\u0103run\u0163ei, al\u0163i copii, al\u0163i bunici.
\n\u015ei c\u00e2nd pe mine m\u0103 roade ca un burghiu prim\u0103vara,
\nC\u0103ci mi-am pierdut \u015fi bunicul \u015fi credin\u0163a \u015fi \u0162ara.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

Mamei<\/h3>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n
Mam\u0103, zadarnic numeri zilele \u015fi s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2nile
\n\u015ei tremur\u00e2nd, \u00ee\u0163i pui la ochi strea\u015fin\u0103 m\u00e2nile.
\nSe vor coace, se vor trece cire\u015fele din gr\u0103din\u0103,
\nF\u0103r\u0103 ca feciorul de departe s\u0103 vin\u0103. <\/p>\n

S\u0103 nu te \u00een\u015feli de \u0163i-o c\u00e2nta coco\u015ful \u00een prag,
\nNici anul acesta nu vine feciorul pribeag.
\nUn sbucium l\u0103untric \u00eel r\u0103suce\u015fte, \u00eel poart\u0103,
\nPe’ntinsuri de ap\u0103 st\u0103tut\u0103 \u015fi moart\u0103.<\/p>\n

O! De n’ar fi dorul, de n’ar fi dep\u0103rt\u0103rile
\nN’ar fi a\u015fa de apas\u0103toare t\u0103cerile.
\nDe n’ar fi o fat\u0103 \u00een satul moldav,
\nNu mi-a\u015fi sim\u0163i sufletul stingher \u015fi bolnav.<\/p>\n

N\u0103dejdile toate, se destram\u0103, se rup,
\nCa o rugin\u0103 roade vremea din trup.
\n\u00cen p\u0103rul din t\u00e2mple \u015fi-a \u00eenfipt vr\u0103jm\u0103\u015fia,
\n\u015ei mi-a ucis adolescen\u0163a, copil\u0103ria.<\/p>\n

Fetei cu ochii alba\u015ftri, mam\u0103 s\u0103-i spui
\nS\u0103-\u015fi lege destinul de altul, sunt tineri destui,
\nCumin\u0163i care nu s’au \u00eenfr\u0103\u0163it cu dep\u0103rt\u0103rile
\n\u015ei nu v\u00e2ntur\u0103 z\u0103nateci, \u0163\u0103rile, z\u0103rile.\u00a0<\/p>\n

S\u0103 nu m\u0103 a\u015ftepte, a\u015ftept\u0103rile dor,
\nCa frunzele toamna, iubirile mor.
\nNumai tu cu credin\u0163\u0103 a\u015fteapta-m\u0103 mam\u0103,
\nCire\u015ful din gr\u0103dina copil\u0103riei, m\u0103 cheam\u0103.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Din vol. Poeme fara Tara<\/strong> \u2013 Acolo sezum si pl\u00e2nsem<\/em>, Ed. Carpatii, Madrid 1954<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Din vol. Poeme fara Tar\u0103 – Acolo \u015fezum \u015fi pl\u00e2nsem, Ed. Carpa\u0163ii, Madrid 1954 Adun\u0103-\u0163i sufletul, camarade Copiii mei, copiii mei, C\u00e2nd merge\u0163i seara la culcare, \u015ei candelele’n tremurare V\u0103 ning pe cre\u015ftete v\u0103paia, Ruga\u0163i-v\u0103 \u015fi pentru cei Care-au c\u0103zut la Turtucaia. (G. Tutoveanu) C\u00e2nd exilul devine ap\u0103s\u0103tor cenu\u015fiu G\u00e2ndi\u0163i-v\u0103 la mor\u0163ii f\u0103r\u0103 cruce, f\u0103r\u0103 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2787","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-pagini-din-exil","category-versuri"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3OdDs-IX","jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2787","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2787"}],"version-history":[{"count":22,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2787\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2809,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2787\/revisions\/2809"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2787"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2787"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.miscarea.net\/w\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2787"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}