Nightly Poem #5

Between lips, in times of rain somebody was saying, sometime, maybe, that our hearts stopped beating that our minds are welded to long beams of steel. The long girders, columns of silence.

Printre buze, printre ploi, cineva spunea, cândva, poate, că Inimile noastre au încetat să bată, că mințile noastre sunt sudate de grinzi lungi de oțel. Grinzile lungi, ale mincinoaselor coloane.