agonia english v3 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission | Contact | Participate | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
agonia ![]()
■ Music ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-10-20 | |
Empty streets
People rushing up and down Invisible Silent The haunting autumn with a scent of prolonged rains Signed its name across the monochrome concrete Alone, I pass With a gust of wind All the leaves die On autumn’s lap On a Monday evening Lamps watch the sky For the sun And birds, misled, gather around The wrong nests I am the owner of my secrecy Of my loneliness, my camouflage I am the autumn this year!
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Privacy and publication policy