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Showing posts from October, 2016

Pink style .

Frozen sky is a prayer of colors that whispers, I will be there with you in a joy like a blue kiss! I lost the hope and the breath ot breathe the, Air of this world of pain. First snow of a wish that may never come! Mood is a feeling that only the heart knows it. Winter is a friend that is so cold but, The one that waits for your heart- alone! ‪Travel dreamer soul of a wild child, blue breath of you.  You make the style and not the style makes you!  Wait like a gentleman, not like a bodyguard.  I wished many things and dreamed a lot but now,  I'm a old one so... it is to late! Without a friend life is like a thought of pain. Season of life it is gone now, like cold wind! Sometimes, a pink bag is your best friend of fashion like a pastel smile. The blue winter sky is a magic places, Your the cloud in it of a fairytale. Coat of blue-black water, hands of last fall! Winter vibrates snowflakes, frozen of a warm wind. Keep calm your thoughts waves of pain!

- A. A. Popovici,

Forgotten poems .

What if, life ends without lOve and you never will know it? Sometimes, even cold is so warm in a loneliness morning! Books are my only love, they are friends and dreams. Our love awakes flowers that aren't in love, my mouth is in silent! I rest in the shadow of fall, my heart is sleeping. Shelter me with green leaf, in the fragrance of your lips! Oh scent, you exist so I may disappear in your left side. Above love and poems, what is most painfull then the tree without life!? Warm by my pages of thoughts, leaves sea wind. Skin, little sadness, which speaks of my spring that may never come! Quietly, she hear the crying of autumn. After wounds, dead comes with the happiness of time! Inside lupine, it is a blooming cheek alongside, any road that is in my living body of a long valley. Face of a fall look that even books don't know it! What it is life really to you? Nostalgia, every time I may be the leaf that snuggled in your being! Her pieces in the garden, I have forgotten that …

Sărut de vierme .

Mă sufoc supt povara tăceri, ce nu îmi dă voie să strig în cele patru zări. Vino, Providență ce cunoști marginile inimii, o rugăciune a ființei trudite! Capul îmi este plin de cuvinte pe care gura mea le înghite mâncând, fără a mai putea fi oprite să nu curgă ca dintr-un vas închis ce, însfârșit varsă durerea ca pe o dulceață- amărue. Sărut de vierme crud, toamnă maronie, pământ făr-de frunze. Ași vrea să știu să exprim durerea în cuvinte, într-un necuprins gol. Vindecarea întâlniri, ce nu există doar în El. Adio, la gustul care lovește ca un bici nădejdea, ce îmi brăzdează cu neputință credința! Mohorâtă este apa la atingerea ei blândă, parcă doare susurul în șoapta de picuri. Treptele de pagini frământate, lutul ce se moaie la înțelegerea Lui!

                                                   - A. A. Popovici,