Of Muses And Other Ghosts

(7 march 1988)

Al Cincilea Anotimp


Cu sarutul rezemat de tine
imi scufund palma in palma ta,
fata in parul tau, si observ
ca iar ai plecat prea devreme.

Poate iti era frica c-o sa ploua
si obligata sa ramai aici, cu mine
ai fi inceput din nou sa plangi
sorbind din cafeaua rece.

Iar frunzele ce ramam in pat dupa ce pleci,
draga Noiembrie
eu nu le ard, cum altii fac
ci imi asez pe ele versurile,
fara rima
fara ritm
si fara pic de minciuna.

Dar nu te mai iubesc,
de ce ai crede asta?
Pentru ca inca iti scriu poezii? !
Ma faci sa rad.

O sa te salut pe strada, daca o sa te vad tulburata
de un nou 'erou',
o sa te iau in brate, sa iti beau lacrimile
si pe drumul cel mai scurt
vom ajunge din nou la mine in camera
cautand buzele celuilalt, pe intuneric
ca un vis de care nu putem fugii suficient de departe
ca sa nu se mai repete,
dar o sa se repete, iar si iar
ca un nou anotimp.

Submitted: Sunday, May 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 06, 2013

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  • Elena Sandu (5/30/2013 2:42:00 AM)

    Serban, condeiul tau e frumos si plin de viata! Limba noastra curge asa de frumoasa, desi trist incondeiata, sufletului meu ii aduce un strop de dulceata. (Report) Reply

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