Then the Sun fall from the sky In high grass and splash.
And you, child, clay liners, and thighs, and a voice you move mountains, and mountains would listen in. ..
And you, child, forest, as with whitewater, and heights among the breasts, on the chest.
You gave, to joy, Angel voice, and you were born with beautiful, smiling flesh.
A stalk, ranged from a to I only loved one thousand.
CITEȘTI
Când sângele cântă...
Poetry"Frâu liber dezmierdării nu'i da prea mult. Până și jurămintele cele mai strașnice par vreascuri în focul sângelui..."
