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short poem

pustiu şi singur
nu fi suparat cu mine
a fost de multe şi de multe de acum un an
roata-mă jos de luncă
pentru aceste arme albe despre gâtul meu
toate jos de ani
de atunci, fără
sus şi în jos se duce
în timp ce stăteam de ascultare, de prost discret
fie nu fals
amărât vorbind


 



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