Poetry (0.022s) Poetry, prose, essays, comments, poems - International Culture and Literature
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Advertising | Contact | Participate | |||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| ||
 |
| ||||||||
![[ Creative ]](/images/menu/eng_CREATIVE.png){kind=small} ![[ Internet ]](/images/menu/eng_INTERNET.png){kind=small} ![[ Culture ]](/images/menu/eng_CULTURE.png){kind=small} ![[ Society ]](/images/menu/eng_SOCIETY.png){kind=small} ![[ Events ]](/images/menu/eng_EVENTS.png){kind=small} ![[ Art ]](/images/menu/eng_ART.png){kind=small} ![[ Books ]](/images/menu/eng_BOOKS.png){kind=small} ![[ Dialogue ]](/images/menu/eng_DIALOGUE.png){kind=small} ![[ Press ]](/images/menu/eng_PRESS.png){kind=small} ![[ Regional ]](/images/menu/eng_REGIONAL.png){kind=small} ![[ _INTERVIEW ]](/images/menu/eng_INTERVIEW.png){kind=small} ![[ Contact ]](/images/base.png){kind=small} |
|||||||||
 |
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
agonia.net 
· Perspectives
Article 
Despre Boierism: manifest si razie
Round Table
|
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-08-20
| I said you will not understand what you can't love beyond fear it's like the dark bearing the sunrise fearfully beautiful the love in our prisons we stick our body through it until we get used to it until disgust when it snows in June and there's the silence of the butterflies I said there exists a kind of sublime in the dried pit of the rotten nut lost between the thighs of young wood towards fall when death is svelte and has time to waste the days are still too long just like the stain of the flowing blood on her legs not used to the cold not yet no not yet I said the sin of the mouths sewn with the same ugly spoken words not about religions this blind snake wraps around us only the temples’ caves throb like a pagan jungle pain is a deep water the shredding of the light ask the hidden guide in the attic of your winters ask I said sometimes in a dream other times when I hold her hand the child becomes an old lady stepping inevitably towards this anonymous rendezvous the time of disappointments arraigned beautifully regularly puzzle of our souls with a thousand pieces with a thousand shadows in my hand I hold a day only one in my hand I hold only one I said.
Views: 508
|
|||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||
| ||||||||||
|
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | | ||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
