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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-06-19 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Un melc ce traverseaza lent,
Atat de lent c-ai timp pentru stupoare O dara lunga, groasa pe ciment Mixat cu piatra grea de asteptare. Ce vad, copaci si crengi metafore in noduri, Si multe variante asteptate Si-asemeni melcului, zgariu ciment pe poduri sunt completat de asteptare-n spate. Si fiecare nod de seva il golesc, Analizand parerea care-o are, Mangai striatii, fibrele rosesc, Dar tot nu scap de fatalistul Doare. Absurd copil ce sunt, imi vreau iubire, Absurd copil ce sunt, efervescent ma lupt cu mori de vant din a mea fire, absurd copil ce sunt din viata absent.
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