
The white paint in the balcony falls in big flakes over the dafodils by the steps. The strangeness of language, the baroque architecture and dark purple sky blink lavishly under the morning rain.The poem in this second expands into the time of before and after. A window glows crimson. Down in the shadows of the lilac trees a shaking arm grabs the handle bar. No thread to pursue, no matter to worry the jazzing silece behind the curtains. Why would you care when you’re everywhere, they say. There is no answer to the drain pipe wabbling down with emotion. Stars keep rolling down the mountains of the world with the symphony of infinity.
Vopseaua alba din balcon se rasfrange pe aleea cu toporasi. Durerea cuvantului, arhitectura baroca si cerul aproape bleu-marin clipesc abundent sub ploaia de dimineata. Poezia secundei se intinde inainte si in urma. O fereastra luceste sangeriu. Jos in umbrele liliecilor o mana tremuratoare apuca mantia. Nici un fir de urmat, nici o grija sa tulbure linistea de jazz din spatele perdelelor. De ce ti-ar pasa cand esti pretutindeni, se spune. Nici un raspuns pentru tevile tremurand de emotie. Stelele continua sa se rostogoleasca de pe muntii lumii cu simfonia infinitului.
Colcai (cu a de la maritis) de fericire.
ha!
unde eşti ?
Eram in Londra la fereastra mea tarzie…