Who’s ready to share their heart with us?

Either in love or hurt, angry or disheveled, pour it out all on paper. Either in English or Romanian or just in the language that you created and only the fowls of the air can comprehend, pour it all out. Why? It’s cathartic, healing, exhilarating, it’s a prayer, it’s a dance on paper, it’s a bandaid, it’s a cure that will endure.

Ready? Let’s go!

And one more thing…

BEST POEMS of LOVE ARE AWARDED WITH ONE OF OUR CDs “Church of Love”.

Love, Gabriela & Mihaela Modorcea

Inspirația n-are oră, n-are ceas

Inspirația e un leac

E un pansament când inima s-a accidentat

Picăturile curg lung pe streașini, iar doctorul nu s-a arătat

Doar poemul meu scris pentru tine e un leac

N-are oră, n-are ceas

E un pansament pentru un veac

Tick tock, tick tock

Ceasul bate, parc-a stat

Doctorul nu s-a arătat

Doar un corb flămând in camer-a zburat,

Flip flap, îmi unge rănile, alină durerile

E un leac

De când tu ai plecat

Totul a stat

Doar poemul meu scris pentru tine e un leac…

Nedeschis, poate-aruncat

Însă pentru mine e un leac

Pentru un veac

And two translations of the same poem –

first Gabriela’s, then Mihaela’sut by customizing the font, style and format.

Inspiration has no clock,
It’s a bandaid for a decade
for the heart that hurts a lot
Drops are sliding on my sill
The doc hasn’t come in for the ill
My verse only has no clock
It’s a bandaid for a decade
For the heart that hurts a lot
Tick tock, tick tock
The clock strikes, it stopped
The doc hasn’t come in for the ill
A black raven sings my trill
Flip, flap – licking wounds onto my sill
It’s a bandaid for a decade
For the heart that hurts a lot
Since you left…
my poem untouched,
maybe hurled inside the past
The clock stopped
My verse only has no clock
It’s a bandaid for a decade
for my heart that hurts a lot

Inspiration has no clock, no hour,
Comes as an ointment with divine power
For the pure when their heart is crashed
By the train of love unraveled, smashed.
Drops of pain are dripping in my room,
The doctor did not come to fix my roof
Yet my poem for you is the window
with no frame to detain the pain…
Let it fly, Let is sigh!
A distant alarm clock, a tick tock
Can be heard again on my dock…
Oh, stop!
I hear my poem running in the shower
Dripping bloody tears, sour –oh, stop…this painful hour.
The doc did not come to fix the roof
Just a famished raven in my room has loomed
Flip flap – he licks my wounds, brushes the gloom.
Since you moved away everything has stayed, intact:
papers flying, rustlings in the fire.
But my poem is the cure, I’ll endure…
my poem will, for sure.
The notebook opened, runs in streams of light
It is already sunrise…and a feather keeps writing itself to daylight.
I know you did not open it; the papers are so cold
Your heart is still sealed with the old
Maybe the horizon can open up your eyes
But I hear it already tried… you want to stay like that, blind.
But thank you cause now I see the Love…Divine.
Who am I? Now I see Life, now I know why…

Watch “Church of Love” by Indiggo Twins

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