Nu ştiu câţi oameni vor citi vreodata ce scriu sau dacă ar avea cineva vreun motiv destul de întemeiat ca să se 'aventureze' vreodată într-atât,dar oricum ca avertisment: se întâmplă să scriu şi-n engleză. C'est la vie, după cum urmează:
Pentru noiembrie,dar mai ales pentru octombrie, cel ce-a fost.*
Pentru noiembrie,dar mai ales pentru octombrie, cel ce-a fost.*
When?
Soon
My veins will sink into my flesh.
They will cling on to what is left
turning inside out, my body will deny
My veins will sink into my flesh.
They will cling on to what is left
turning inside out, my body will deny
its gift, my curse, its theft.
In the blackness of the skies
I will know the pain within!…Within
Blood runs clear at each end
Leaving my heart emptied by their words;
I die to live to play pretend
I become crystal clear as blood swivels out…
inside
In turmoil I hide.
My veins, my heart, are now transparent.
In silence, lay me drained out by your embrace
Kiss my eyes when shivers fade,
Close them in and sow them up…
My hands grasp for dust in a prayer, in its whispers…
Yet the ground is frozen
I search,
Yet the ground is frozen.
-Inadequacy!-
Voices will leave my body,
just like moths drawn to a distant flame
Kiss my eyes my love, and leave
-Nothing will ever be the same.
Believe
-Journeys are not made for their destination-
Believe
As my clay crawls in search for another life to cling on to
inside
Find the courage, follow me close
In the tomb of my forefathers I am
inside
In their emptied bodies my own will hide!
*n-am mai scris de ceva vreme, toate poeziile sunt scoase din 'albume' vechi de amintiri
