cel ce fuge
iubind mă înec în polen
şi în lacrima cîinelui
iubind mă petrec prin liniştea
de plumb alb a mielului
fericită colină sunt
trup fericit
sfîntă ca iarba mormintelor
celor de două ori îngropaţi
dincolo de lumină sunt alte lumini
se-aude un plîns printre vii
cel ce fuge purtînd între umerii lui
un copil
nu poate fi decît sufletul
cu poala veşmîntului plină de
struguri şi frunze
who is running
loving I am drowning in pollen
and in the tear of the dog
loving I am passing through the peace
of white lead of the lamb
happy hill I am
happy body
holy as the grass of the graves
of the twice burried
beyond the light there are other lights
it is heard a cry among the living
who is running carrying a child
on his shoulders
can be only the soul
with the lap of his garment full of
grapes and leaves
who is running
loving I am drowning in pollen
and in the tear of the dog
loving I am passing through the peace
of white lead of the lamb
happy hill I am
happy body
holy as the grass of the graves
of the twice burried
beyond the light there are other lights
it is heard a cry among the living
who is running carrying a child
on his shoulders
can be only the soul
with the lap of his garment full of
grapes and leaves
Minunata poezie, e aproape initiatica.C.
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