agonia romana v3 |
Agonia - Ateliere Artistice | Reguli | Mission | Contact | ÃŽnscrie-te | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Articol Comunităţi Concurs Eseu Multimedia Personale Poezie Presa Proză Citate Scenariu Special Tehnica Literara | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
agonia ![]()
■ nu pot respira ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-06-07 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | The chest of my eagle is yellow chrome His tongue sings the sweetest love songs with his beak he makes silver and pours it on to the earth As if a million angels are flying down from the sky and reflecting the face of my beloved on to the lake the face of the lake is my mirror I look and see thy face The one I’ve fallen in love with I’m so desperate to see face to face Home sickness defeated me I miss my home The smell is so different from the flowers in my garden my love awaits me next door However, the forest I walk is here And the mountains I climb/ the green grass once upon a time I jumped on... is there! The Five-finger Mountains which I used to climb is there... What has happened to our cottage? Where the hell is our beautiful roof gone? The flowers are dead in our garden... Gunsel Djemal 1/6/2009 Bromley Road- London
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
Casa Literaturii, poeziei şi culturii. Scrie şi savurează articole, eseuri, proză, poezie clasică şi concursuri. | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
Reproducerea oricăror materiale din site fără permisiunea noastră este strict interzisă.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Politică de publicare şi confidenţialitate