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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-11-27 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Orasul musteste a vin si fum,
Iar in metrou Se face reclama La lumina artificiala. Jurul meu se risipeste Gaurit In spasme Aburul se lasa greu si pustiit. Am alergat destul. Acum zbor pe deasupra apei Si ma indrept agale spre O cetate in ruine. Colosul se ridica Si-si apasa pasii Spre a renaste o caramida arsa. Am spus prea mult, Dar nicicand Destul. Ceara din mine se prelinge pe obrazul tau Si e fericita.
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