|
agonia romana v3 |
Agonia - Ateliere Artistice | Reguli | Mission | Contact | Înscrie-te | ||||
|
|
| |||||
| Articol Comunităţi Concurs Eseu Multimedia Personale Poezie Presa Proză Citate Scenariu Special Tehnica Literara | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
agonia ![]()
■ Au început să înflorească teii. Gen Contact |
Comentariile membrilor
Vizionări: 14140
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2019-01-18 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
If I would die today
you wouldn’t notice a thing other than the skin of your transcendental gods, that flat, obliterating thing dimming up your face late in the night when stars are starving of dreams, counting mine if I would die today I would leave here unknown to many too many times crossing my life with theirs across the ocean of vast encounters, like a deserter fleeing the labor camp of his mind in daylight you would be going on with your demise and loving palms, covering the flowers of spring with kisses stolen from the banks of Rio Grande if I would die today you would not remember me, bird, you would only fly higher than the fumes of Andean pipes covering the stolen and deserted lands of my heart if I would die today, I wouldn’t know what to tell you but put this ring of words on your finger for the weddings of long, whispering, simmering nights and with those lips I would seal my breath for eternity inside this shivering body, my ark
|
||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
| 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