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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2015-11-28 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
The skyline, a remainder of the last witness,
an open arch between forest under which a river and a road pass, you don’t know where they come from nor where they go. The woman, tamed for a while, until she gets back her hunter reflexes, used to have badly directed gestures as in an absurd theater. She was managing my feelings with fear to find the balance where I sit, to have my opinions rounded and the sharpening angles from my eyes. She has never found a safe place, just some kind of an isolated nest somewhere at the edge of the world where days flow from inertia, each one the same, until you find out that you do nothing more than you normally live.
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