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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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agonia ![]()
■ Petite valse gitane ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-05-01 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
As I lurked deep underwater
Everything with ease I saw From the silver fish like angels To dark crayfish that lay low. But especially above The proud birds that walk on lilies And the very high-up eagles And the pigeons that they grab. But as far as I extend I am desperate as I stand So close to surface to understand I cannot pass it. Along comes man, with mind of cells, He nears my prison borders He’ll be around to live his days And make my thoughts disperse. For all he saw as he approached The place where I weave sorrows, Was just the birds and a cursed face, Not me, but his reflection.
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