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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-09-09 | [This text should be read in romana] | Imi cresc gand Prin troiene s-ajung sa culeg flori de mere. Cavalerul a plecat. Eu am ramas Singura langa calul de nea Langa calul de nea Sa-mi pregatesc ochii De sarbatoare, cum faceam An de an. Nu sunt mireasa. Asa-s podoabele tristetii: Amare si albe. Dimineata se culege roua din obraji, nu-i asa? Lerui ler Florile-s dalbe…
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