- M-am aplecat peste marginea Curcubeului.Ganduri,amintiri,sentimente,invalmasite si inghesuite se rostogolesc din Cer,ca stropi de roua argintii.In zbor rotit alunecand in jos,se repezesc pripite si rusinate ca n-au reusit sa puna in traistuta nici o firimitura din menire.Norii acopera campia,impodobita cu lanuri aurii de grau.In adierea vantului,spice jucause ca niste carabusi,isi spun povestea de iubire.Cu sunet matasos de tamburina se prind in dansul Ielelor frumoaselor,asteptand Seceratorii.La marginea drumului,fire de iarba ca soldatei,cu varfurile pe jumatate arse-n vant ca sabii se vor refugia tacute intr-o noapte stelara, cealalta jumatate verde pastrand-o cu radacina la Izvor.Prind in palme puful intarziat al papadiilor ca si cum as deschide un Oracol.Dincolo de geana Cerului,inca mai sunt prunci care trebuie sa poarte pe umerii lor atatea amintiri cate n-au reusit parintii lor sa duca.Tacuti si cu ochii umezi,ca perlele din adancul oceanelor,isi asteapta parintii,sa le prinda mainile si sa le arate Lumea ca o Imparatie, Anotimpurile ca Tablouri pe un perete imaginar si Harta pe care sunt insemnate Drumurile.Ielele frumoasele au trecut de Poarta Zorilor.Asezandu-se printre buruienile cu samanta inflorita,tes din fire argintii de praf stelar o minunata panza de paianjen.Bucuroase ca au gasit placuta,prind in tesatura stropii argintii de roua de la marginea Curcubeului.Ca niste mori de vant,buruienile acopera placuta pana la topirea pinzelor.Fiara insetata,da tarcoale ca sa citeasca Drumurile.Asezata de Seceratori deasupra Hartei ,placuta va lumina din Intuneric cu fascicule de lumina argintii, imaginea perlata a Anotimpurilor.
- I leaned over the edge of the Rainbow.Thoughts,memories,feelings,clutter and cramped roll from heaven like dew drops of silver.In glinding flight turned down rushed,hasty and ashamed that they have managed to put in bag any crumb of purpose.The clouds cover the plain adorned with with golden wheat fields.In the breeze,ears playfull like blinds,they tell the story of love.Silky sound of tambourine,cling in the dance of Beautiful Elves,waiting for the Reapers.On the road,blades of grass as soldiers,with peaks of half-burned-in wind as swords will silently refuge in a stellar night keeping the other half green with a root in spring.Catch in my hands,fluff delayed of dandelions like I open an oracle.Beyond eyelash Heaven,are still babies have to wear on their shoulders every so memories of their parents did not have to go.Quietly and the moist eyes as pearls from the dephts of the oceans await parents,their little hands to catch them and show them the world as like a kingdom,Seasons like pictures on a imaginary wall and Maps of roads that are significant.Beautiful Elves Down passed Gate.Sitting among flowering weeds with seed,silver threads woven in a beautiful star dust swirls.Gladly to have found the plate catch in texture silver drew drops from edge of the rainbow.Like windmills,weeds cover plate to melt webs.Thirsty Beast roaring to read roads.Located by the Reapers over Maps,the Plate will light the dark beams of light silver pearl pictureSeasons.
