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Poezii Românesti - Romanian Poetry

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Pavement drawing
poesia [ ]
translated by Alina Bumbac.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
di [ani ]

2013-08-28  | [Questo testo si dovrebbe leggere in english]    | 





I will draw on this cup of coffee a gentle hippo.
In every morning,
mother
will have to comfort him on the face,
ask him if he's hungry
or
if she wants to take him for a walk.
That being said, she can peace and enjoy,
the coffee.

*** 2 ***

I think, instead of this whiny morning
I will draw yeah yeah a morning
slim and beautiful.
Carries the smile with dew at spring;
fondle the faltering waves
and listened fascinated
a ballad
sung by the oak leaves.

Rolled up his shirts woven with rivers and flowers
and filled to the brim the cruse with
dreams of love.

At every daybreak ... chirping,
she leaves the sun to play in her tress
And in her hands rising

**3**

I'll draw more dancers
with glittering tiaras.
Dance graceful in pearl dresses
she leans and rises,
as water lilies open in heaven .
Are the snowflakes, you guessed it!

** 4 **

She left from home to pick violets.
Peonies bloomed in her cheeks.
But she don't care
she's barefoot
through the forest.
Break the ice with her heels and
sing with the nightingales .
The violets and the snowdrops bandaged her wounds.
You guessed it: I drew the Spring.

**5**

She weaves a shiny veil from sun's rays.
Wreath of feather of crane worn on the head.
The waves kissed the bride's,
roses knees
who wait the groom in the doorway.
Of course, the beautiful Summer ... I drew.

** 6 **

I drew on a plate some grapes.
God has gathered the tears of children
and turned them into golden grains.
That is why they are so sweet.

** 7 **

Antony has no family.
I will draw his small steps in the snow.
Going to church, light up a candle
and pray:
to his parents
God give them health.

** 8 **


This stately gentleman with leg a wood
will draw a circle.
Dad will come and will color it orange.
Mother will cut it in a rosette as an orange .
I'll give the little flower to my sister, Mary.

** 9 **

I will draw a butterfly on the palm of Anna: blow, Anna!
The winged desire will reach to God.

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