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I’m once again breaking my commitment not to write in Romanian on my Blog, but the next few lines only mean something to Romanians and translating it would make it loose its flavor. Sorry for that ;).

Here goes nothing: Din cand in cand mai primesc si eu cate un mail mai special in Inbox, si pe asta nu m-a lasat inima sa nu-l postez aici.

Generatia X

Aceasta este o scrisoare nostalgica, adresata celor care fac parte din generatia NOASTRA, Generatia X.

Nascuti la sfarsitul anilor 70 si inceputul anilor 80, vedem acum in anul 2006 cum casa parintilor nostri este de 50 de ori mai scumpa decat atunci cand au cumparat-o ei, si realizam ca noi o sa platim pentru casele noastre in jur de 50de ani.

Nu avem amintiri despre primii pasi pe luna, nici despre razboaie sangeroase, dar ne pricepem la istorie si la politica mai mult decat cred batranii, care bombane in spatele nostru ca „noi nu stim nimic”.
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This poem has been awarded in 2005 as the best poem at an international literature contest. It’s written by an African kid:

When I born, I Black,
When I grow up, I Black,
When I go in Sun, I Black,
When I scared, I Black,
When I sick, I Black,

And when I die, I still black …
And you White fella,

When you born, you Pink,
When you grow up, you White,
When you go in Sun, you Red,
When you cold, you Blue,
When you scared, you Yellow,
When you sick, you Green,

And when you die, you Gray …
And you calling me Colored?

The Lion.

(Not Rated)

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I told myself I would never post in Romanian on this blog. Well it has come the time to make an exception. Why? Because I simply cannot translate the text bellow. It would loose all it’s magic.

Disclaimer: It’s not necessary how I fell or believe. These are the thoughts of a dear friend of mine. Read on, but only if you’re in the mood to read it. It’s pointless otherwise.

Vise
Cand iti trasezi viitorul cu nesat si …. ti se rupe linia….Omului ii plac certitudinile…si eu sunt om… iti stabilesti un tel ceva ce vrei sa atingi…fie el mic, fie el mare dar e acolo si te tachineaza; iti spune ca poti sa-l ajungi si te ajuta sa-ti construesti aripi de ceara… vara! Planuiesti totul pana la ultimul detaliu, visezi cu ochii deschisi in miez de zi si miez de noapte… te perpelesti cu ganduri multe…. Unele mai nerealiste sau nerealizabile ca altele, dar te minti convingandu-te ca daca crezi indeajuns totul “va fi bine!” Ajungi sa dai crezare si sa te intrebi daca ce ai visat nu-i de fapt ceva ce s-a intamplat in plina zi, sau ce ai asudat peste noapte n-a fost transpiratia zilei de afara.Si cand ajungi pana acolo unde consideri ca poti sa darami orice zid, apare primul detaliu… minor, dar present, care te tachineaza si te usuca pe zi ce creste… treci si peste asta si la sfarsit…undeva, cat de curand, te loveste realitatea peste ochi: nimic nu-i un simplu detaliu…totul e acolo pentru ca asa sta aranjat de dinainte… discutiile cu regizorul sunt mai de dinainte!

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Some days ago I was completing my application form for NPS (a national conference within AIESEC Romania). The last question was about my personal vision. I don’t know what got into me but I could only write a short story, a story that marked the end of my second HR term as EB member of AIESEC in Sibiu.

The perfect heart
One day a young man stopped in the center of a great city and began to tell the people passing by that he had the most perfect heart in the world. After a while, a big crowd gathered surrounding him everybody admiring his perfect heart. You could see no crack, no mark on his heart. Everybody agreed that this was the most perfect heart they’ve ever seen. The young man was very proud of his heart and was continuously speaking about it. At one point, from the crowd emerged an old man. With a calm voice he said like speaking to himself:
“As it may be the perfection of your heart cannot compare with the beauty of my heart”.
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I decided to post here also some random messages, collections of words that make some nice sense to some of us. So here it goes:

Words
The girl asks the boy: “Do you like me?”
He replies: “No”
She asks: “Do you find me pretty?”
He replies: “No”
She asks: “Do I have a place in your heart?”
He replies: “No”
She asks him for the last time: “If I leave, will you cry for me?”
He replies: “No”
The girl walks away tears running down her face … he grabs her hand and wipes her tears: ” I don’t like you, I love you, I don’t find you pretty, I find you beautiful, you don’t have a place in my heart, you are my heart, I won’t cry if you go, I will die missing you.”

Maybe you’ll like it, maybe you won’t … that’s up to you to decide.

Cheers,
The Lion.