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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-11-05 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
the gate was waiting for me
with all its planks ready to fall down if I would’ve put my hand on its bolt there were no flowers in the garden anymore my little childhood house to tired to look out for me ceased to hope it was leaning against my dearest apple-tree -with its bark ceaseless rummaged by the worms- then my legs started to plunge into the soil strange weeds fast rising around them I tried to scream there was no sound into my throat I vainly tried to run but I was only running backwards then gradually I became what I first was dust my body lies now scattered in every stone of the road looking at it my soul doesn't recognize it
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