I would like to sit on the edge of the sidewalk and wait for night to fall at the end of the street. The loneliness I now feel resembles still the loneliness of my childhood, when I did not know that time is lost forever. Is there nothing that can redeem that time? Is there not a single gesture that remains true, even as I sit in the street, my head buried in my hands? The light crumbles on objects, the objects turn into leaves, they turn into leaves.
Frunza,petala,foaie,strat...
O zi frumoasa de toamna sa ai Luminita mea draga.
croseta 2 years ago
Minunat...My favourite...
22silviu 2 years ago
Multumesc pentru acest frumos tribut pentru cel mai mare poet roman contemporan.
nycanonymous 2 years ago 2
nycanonymous 2 years ago
Great video
gmihut 2 years ago
Merci Luminita pour ta belle traduction de
ce poème sur la solitude, celle de notre age, celle de notre enfance.
Mélodieuse musique qui accompagne le tourbillon des feuilles.
yd22t 2 years ago