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■ Poem felin în varianta păsărească
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| [Acest text ar trebui citit în english]
About the time. Translation by Maria Eugenia Caseiro
How smooth the sliding of the hours when they leave to be hours and the time is barely a swaying of the space. It is so that I walk barefoot the slopes and in the afternoon I gaze at the first men battle-hardened and slow Dinosaurs of the sun tempering the eggs of the day so that be born the springs so that the young children and elders complete the circles of the year. How smooth the sliding of the hours when blue insects sing into the silence that the afternoon cries and cries breaking down the look of the light until the moon devours the minutes and all the evenings with their pantophagics teeth with their dead looks with their children beheaded all in an register of innocence while the time devises their poisons and the first men hide behind the mountains. To the next unfolded of the eras.
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