Drop of hoar – Goccia di brina – Stropul de brumă

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text

I was already on the other side of the bridge
the lights of the city had remained tiny specks
the noise, wailing it is lost in the water and smoke
.
no is road without end, without a break,
we looking in backpack for a piece of bread, a drop of water
and we looked at in a vacuum in which
the memories become hoary, people and things are foreign
a wound-being grows in the womb, how many things we have not done…
to how many persons we not had the time to tell her we loved them …
we wasted so many gifts, just gathered, and remained there
.
the city lights are not seen, the bridge stretches painfully
the soul, disembodied, hang from a drop of hoar
we turn in the dust, the seeds of grass are waiting for us

Image

stavo già dall’altra parte del ponte

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