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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-04-29 | [This text should be read in romana] | Tipa-n cotloane pajura de slova Cu braul ei pe gand sa ma ferece, Eu stau pitit, stihia pan-o trece, Inlantuit de-a viciului istova. La drum de-n pas gandi trupu-mi sa plece, Pamantul tot imi dantuie la prova Si orice umbra-mi pare ca-i alcova, Prin aprigul meu foc, chemare rece. Si-mi zic: de unde, Doamne,-atata larma S-a nalucit de-odata, ca un vierme Pornind sa-mi sape zeci de gropi in karma?! Corabie se-nchipuise-n derme, Vazand piratii, pus-am brat pe arma... A, doar copii cu rasetele ferme...!
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