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￭ You are
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￭ I know what you're thinking, father
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Exil
poetry [ ]
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by Ion Caraion [Ion_Caraion ]
2017-03-14
| [This text should be read in romana] |
Submited by Maria Elena Chindea
Ceața-i o linie. Spațiul se termină într-un copac.
Tren de noapte. Pasăre undeva.
Din timp în timp, gări calcinate.
Atunci marea a întrerupt brusc
timpul.
Nimic nu s-a mai deosebit de nimic.
Limbajul era o închisoare.
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