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 |
![]()
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2012-12-04 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
Abiding deep,
like drying, reedless water; unwanted, bitter tasting washer of anything offered, dumped, forgotten there, where light has never thought of dying... Making its way to any fountain, well; to any pond. For seas are salty teardrop oceans, eyeless witnesses of what it was when clouds were roaming free embracing winds, of south, of north, of anywhere, making love, raising wild children of prairie grasses, smelling early of sweet dripping sweat... My woman's armpits smell of nails biting hard my back's skin, my thighs, my arms; of blood biting lips unwilling to let go... Scar me oh woman, scar, until there's nothing left this flesh's to cover... Unskin me lover, hurt me, until all flying seeds shall find their rooting playground... Undo my former self, and hold me, until our children, all shall wish to sing... Give them our bones, my thunder, until their song shall raise the dying...
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
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