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graduation poem

misterios de noapte
pentru aceste arme albe despre gâtul meu
fiice de timp
dis-de-dimineaţă a fost de-măr verde
El chiar şi-ar fi sa glumă
pic de milă, purtat, râs confruntă
roata-mă jos de luncă
la miezul noptii
Doar ca degetele mele de pe aceste taste
spuma floare alb, rosu flacără floare
dacă aş fi ştiut cât de îngust o închisoare este dragoste
care iubeşte ploaie

 



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