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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-10-24 | [This text should be read in romana] | Submited by error Sunt timbre ale mortii mici volante ei ara timpul zilei si-l reduc varsand in flori - calicii delirante - suspinand matasos de eunuc Ei trec pedepsitor in rana noastra ingalbenind in gerul prematur si ninge-adeseori prin ora vasta cu oasele lor albe, din azur... Patrule sunt batatorind lumina in departarea surda dinspre zei, mici dezertori prin cerul de rugina cu lanturile mortii dupa ei... Cruci fragede fosnind in zbor timid. ferestre fosnind in zbor timid ferestre moi prin amintiri secate, polenul lor bolborosind in vid pe-un sambure rigid de bunatate I-am asteptat. Odata a vuit de lipsa lor. Dar ceasurile sparte cu fata s-au intors in infinit ca niste fluturi bucurosi de moarte. poezie aparuta in sectiunea celor "Cele mai frumoase poezii ale anului 1981", almanahul "Spectacol", aceelasi an.
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