- Ca niste scuturi grele taioase si reci,cuvinte nerostite cad ca oglinzi in jurul meu..Duc palmele la ochi. Cerul parca s-a coborat langa mine ca sa ma apere,punand la bataie toata armata ostirilor stelare.Caut o carte pierduta cand cu zvonirea Cuvintelor.In acest loc Ielele frumoasele si-au pus palmele fierbinti peste fruntea mea.Aici pastrez toate amintirile si dorintele smulse din inima atat de dureros,ca spinii.Pe aceste strazi am copilarit si mi-am pus palmele pe aceiasi copaci,care si astazi,pastreaza neschimbat,parfumul copilariei.Imagini dragi,au ramas ca urme sculptate pe trunchiul lor.In gradinile din Parc,Statuile parca vorbesc.Cu ochii intorsi inlauntrul lor,cladesc minunate Palate de clestar.Ca niste parinti,pastreaza un loc sigur pentru toti cei care se vor adaposti la umbra lor.De la fantana din mijlocul aleii,copiii arunca-n joaca stropi de apa-n sus spre Cer,privindu-le apoi caderea in zbor sagetat in jos.Un fluturas alb,adus in graba de caldura diminetii imi indreapta pasii spre corola cu frunze a batranului Stejar.Sus,spre Cer,stropi de lumina se cern vrajiti printre frunze,alunecand usor in jos,la radacina Copacului.Ca o pasare cu zborul cazut pe Pamant,Cartea ma asteapta. Pierduta candva in vartejul clipelor,mi-a pastrat toate amintirile-n Cuvinte.Ca imagini ascunse, le bagam in buzunarul nostru,strengareste..Cuvinte nerostite,asemenea frunzelor arse de vant se aseaza usor la umbra statuilor.Inalt Cartea spre Cer.In zbor rotit,Ielele frumoasele coboara-n jos,ridicandu-se apoi ca fluturi albi,dincolo de corola copacilor,ca sa imbratiseze Cerul.
- Like a heavy shields,sharp and cold,unspoken words that mirrors fall around me..I put my palms on the eyes.The sky came down beside me as if to protect me,putting the entire army flight stellar hosts.Looking for a lost book when have rumored Words.In this place Beautiful Elves have put their hot hands over my head.Here I keep all the memories and desires of the heart so painfully torn as thorns.On these streets I grew up and put my palms on the same tree,which keeps unchanged today,the scent of childhood.Pictures loved,have remained carved marks on their trunk.In the gardens of the park,talking statues.With eyes turned inward inside them,build wonderful palaces of crystal.Like parents,keep a safe place for everyone to be their shelter in the shade.From the fountain in the middle of the alley,children throw drops of water in play up to the sky,then watching them fall down arrow in flight.A white butterfly,brought morning rush of heat turns my steps towards the corolla of the Old Oak Leaf.Upwards into the sky,drops of light bewitched sifted through the leaves,gently gliding down to the roots of the tree.Like a bird in flight feel to the Earth,the Book waiting for me.Someday lost in the whirlwind of moments,Book has kept me all the memories in Keywords.As a hidden pictures,stuffing them in our pocket,sprightly.Unspoken words like leaves burned slightly wind sits in the shadow of statues.High Book to Sky.In Flight rotated,Beautiful Elves going down and then rising as white butterflies,trees beyond the corolla,to embrace the sky.
