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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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| [Acest text ar trebui citit în english]
Alone she stands
on the edge of the precipice and begs: "Give me one reason not to fly!" The graines of dust roll vertically Just waves of martian thoughts coming from her heart... No buss passes through here And she couldn't get in it anyway 'cause they're full of ticket collectors and the driver rides on the stair - How sadly the sun is setting and if someone should answer me maybe here alone I would be and wait just a bit longer behind me enough for the earth to make one journey round himself" Every sentence has its own different equilibrium an imponderable relativity every word is like a gram of ballast just a plus infinite multiplied by g in this necklace with a ring and a cross "this necklace is so heavy but it's mine, it's my herittage, only mine" ... ... now I stand on the edge of the precipice but she has left already and I can hear from down bellow: "hey precious, just us two and you precious..." somewhere reality ends and I stand right on the boundary separating a dream from a nightmare
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