Monday, September 15, 2014

Nightly Poem #5

Between lips, in times of rain
somebody was saying, sometime, maybe,
that our hearts stopped beating
that our minds are welded
to long beams of steel.
The long girders, columns of silence.
Printre buze, printre ploi,
cineva spunea, cândva, poate,
că Inimile noastre au încetat să bată,
că mințile noastre sunt sudate
de grinzi lungi de oțel.
Grinzile lungi, ale mincinoaselor coloane.