you open the book passing your soul over its old parchment a pale light starts suddenly flowing a poisoned spear falls down bloody wars corpses ever more deeply slashed in ever greater numbers until they are piled in mounds until the stench rises aloft and the troubled spirit departs
a bird’s cry reminds you that there’s nothing to understand not even about the birds’ innocent idiom what about life? what about death? what about this poem?Otilia Nicolescu
Quote by Otilia Nicolescu about poetry, numbers, nothing, light, soul, old, olderness, death, spirit, life.