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■ The oak
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POEM TO THE HEARTH (I)
Gazing at the frozen, sleepy hearth, I threw away the chest of love and lies, I gave the hearth what once I’d loved the most – The sweet but untrue verses of inexistent love. The dear innocent roses And their harmful, poisonous thorns With their silky petals that soon dried up And fell dead to the ground – I threw them all into the dry, cold hearth. I stroke a match – The flame was dancing in the air Like the wild wing of a restless blue Phoenix – I threw the match into the hearth And they all started burning. Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania
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