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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-08-07 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Stau in gradina si privesc spre cer.
Plang chiar si merii despartirea noastra Cu albe flori si pasarea maiastra N-a mai venit,si –n inima e ger. In ochi se-mplanta sloiuri de taceri, Si lacrimile –mi sunt ca macii,sange Pe buze -mi curge astazi cand se frange In cioburi timpul tristelor placeri. Ma ninge cu miros de batraneti, Si clipele le-am pus in par ,carunte, Mi-atarn de suflet soaptele marunte Rostite in uitate dimineti. Stau in gradina si privesc spre cer, Plang chiar si merii despartirea noastra Petale albe curg din pom,maiastra A mai ramas doar clipa………. Si e ger.
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