marți, 15 ianuarie 2008

Dor de mine

De mine, cea spontana. Care nu simtea nevoia si timiditatea de a se cenzura des. In al carei cap zumzaiau idei despre Matisse si Magritte, vise cu inorogi si imagini cu dansuri nude in campii cu maci. I no longer am the essence of opium.
Din vremuri mai creative:
My love is like a hut, a shelter;
I cover it in blotting paper.
Sau:
My love is like smoke from a hookah, it vanishes into thin air.
Si ultima, care nu-mi apartine:
My love is like a tall, tall tree
With branches bald as January.

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