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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-06-12 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
MIDNIGHT HOUR
by Sorana Lucia Salomeia In the deep silence of the night An old clock strikes the midnight hour And the mystery intensifies and fills the atmosphere With every hoarse echo of the heavy strokes. Another hour that has drowned In the passing wave of time, Another hour in my life… What was I doing one year ago, At the same hour? Maybe falling in love, Maybe laughing, Or maybe I was crying. Who bothers to remember? We keep building illusions And live from one illusion to another, And so we forget how it is to be alive And breathe the fresh, scented air every morning. And suddenly we hear a strange voice Whispering in our ears: “This is the last of your illusions” But we keep dreaming, Forgetting what it is like To fall into the kiss of life And so we keep floating On clouds of smoke Filling our hearts with melancholy. Time passes this way And nothing really happens. And suddenly a thought invades us Like a wave of sorrow: “Another hour of my life has passed away…” Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania
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