agonia english v3 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission | Contact | Participate | ||||
Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special | ||||||
|
||||||
agonia Recommended Reading
■ The oak
Romanian Spell-Checker Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-08-23 | |
The snow rises up around me. I walk arduously through the snowdrifts, leaving deep marks in the white snow. Everything around me is still. Not even a breeze troubles the monumental silence that enveloped the mountain. The branches of the firs have almost reached the earth, under the weight of the wet snow. The field is like a frozen sea. You expect to see just now some ships that flow with ease towards god knows what far away land...
not one movement on the white field - the silence of winter I am very close to the summit. I can see the trees that guard the road. Of course, the road itself cannot be seen, buried amongst all that snow. Winter has a white date with the sun. The rays play lighting up every single flake. Out of the wood comes suddenly a rabbit. Only the black spot on it's head convinces you he to is not made out of snow... another winter around the trees silence - and many white rabbits Not one cloud... The hot blue of the sky feels my heart up with composure. I feel like home, here, in the middle of this white and pure surroundings. The rabbit doesn't run when I come near it. It feels the heat of my hand and let's me touch him. I believe that he is the only one that can truly understand the beauty of the white...
|
||||||||
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | |||||||||
Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Privacy and publication policy