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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-10-30 | [Aestu textŭ lipseashti s-hibâ dghivâsitŭ tu romana] | Ânyrâpsitŭ tu bibliotecâ di Ionescu Bogdan
There are in space millions of gentle stars,
To the reach of your sight... but thou conjecture The ones thou don´t see, igneous and obscure roses Exuberating in the farthest height of heights. There are in Earth millions of beautiful women, To the reach of your desire... but thou search for The ones who don´t live, dream and affection thou do not enjoy Neither will, past or future visions. Thus, in an abstraction of numbers and images, Thou live. You look with boredom at the isolated and sad planet And find the heavenly vault desert and dark. And thou´ll die, alone, between two mirages: The stars with no name- the light thou´ve never seen, And the women with no body- the love thou´ve not had!
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