Dupa furtuna / After the storm

The grass was greener

The light was brighter

The taste was sweeter

The nights of wonder

.............................

Forever and ever

Pink Floyd - High Hopes, The Division Bell Album

Am vazut furtuna rupandu-le frunze, aplecandu-le flori si spaland polenul, ba chiar smulgandu-i din radacini. Cu toate astea, pomii primesc totul firesc. Cu demnitate. Doar noi, oamenii, ne plangem. Si-aproape de fiecare data dupa o furtuna, ne intrebam ‘pentru ce am fost pedepsiti’?...

Daca o clipa am opri intrebarea la jumatate si-am privi in jurul nostru, am putea vedea ca dupa furtuna lumina e mai clara, aerul mai curat si aromele mai patrunzatoare. Ca cerul e mai cer, pamantul mai pamant si verdele mai verde… O alta perspectiva si totusi aceeasi. Doar mai limpede. Un punct si de la capat, scris pe ramasitele frunzelor si florilor noastre, spulberate de furtuna. Poate un nou inceput spre care, altfel, n-am fi avut curajul si increderea sa pornim?!...

I saw the storm breaking their leaves, bending their flowers and washing away the pollen, even pulling their roots out of the ground.  Nevertheless, trees accept everything artlessly. With dignity. Only we, human beings, like to complain of. And almost after every storm that occurs, we ask ‘what have we been punished for ‘?

If only we could stop that question for a second and look around us, we would see how light is clearer, the air is crisper and the flavours louder, after a storm. How the sky is sky-er, the earth is earth-er and the green is greener…  Another perspective and yet the same. Only clearer. Full stop and start a new line, written on our shattered leaves and flowers.  Perhaps a new beginning we never would’ve had the faith and courage to start walking to?!...

Pink Floyd - High Hopes

Earth day. Every day.

The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land

Plums and smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky

A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers,

But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking.

He's haunted by the memory of a lost paradise

In his youth or a dream, he can't be precise

He's chained forever to a world that's departed

It's not enough, it's not enough.

His blood has frozen and curdled with fright

His knees have trembled and given way in the night

His hand has weakened at the moment of truth

His step has faltered.

One world, one soul

Time pass, river roll...

And he talks to the river of lost love and dedication

And silent replies a swirl invitation

Flow dark and troubled to an oily sea

A grim intimation of what is to be.

There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night

And there's dust in my eyes that blinds my sight

And the silence that speaks so much louder than words,

Of promises broken...