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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-09-10 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
They’ve died under veils,
the sad widows. The tolls have been pulled and creak of planks, have sung the funeral hymn, of falling into the depths of ground. They’ve died under tears, the barren widows. The wooden boxes have been nailed and ropes, festered by past, once more remembered what they have to do. They’ve died with the watch light, the old widows. The fresh soil that smelled like wine was hit with shovels and flowers were sprinkled on the absinthe grave. They’ve died under oblivion, all widows.
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