Works And Days Poem by Horatiu Stamatin

(Works and Days)

I’m walking on the bridge now!
“Go to hell, ” someone spills his wrath under the bridge. It must be a drowned, guess I, or it must even be the river.

I’m walking under a sky hued by the clouds now!
“Go to hell, ” someone spills his wrath behind a cloud. It must be a lightning-hit someone, guess I, or it must even be the lightning.

I’m walking along a field now!
“Go to hell, ” someone spills his wrath from an anthill. It must be an unknown hero, or it must even be the grass.

I reach home, cook my dinner, cut my forefinger.
“Go...”, it must be someone behind the door, or even it’s me.