MIRELA NECULA: The forgetful sun returns
The forgetful sun returns
fed up with fighting and chauvinistic branches
desiring what is called life
deep as a sea of redness.
My miracle goes smoothly
from yesterday he gather the rays in his hand
he smiles, loves, resounds loudly
and tickle the sadness with how many palms he has.
Abnormal paths slap bluish
grown too much in anyone's grass
the forgetful sun passes through two
with the wind pinned in his flesh,
and blood, and bitter in the mud.
But the completely crazy boiling
it went through temples like a roar
from the goodness of the fine sun
the yolk finally comes with another coat
from the heel to the retina
I crown myself a little as his queen
..what if the shadow of the night will slay me ..
