Transversal
I feel I'm strolling along you pathways of see-through Maple trees I hardly walk and I am sick... You quiver like a leaf in currents... I need you tumble with the time From heavy winter - blossom of the trees In winter's longing I just once believed the color - a wild rose. I feel myself strolling along you with my own voice, with our steps One deeply sigh - I will regret: My lonely pathway was never Ours... Written at age 17 in Bucuresti - translated now www.scripca.com
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by: Iolanda Scripca 4/1/2011 |
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