Unicorn horseshoe

Well, old friend, from the reading book,
We pass through life  the same, and have the same nature,
We get drunk with skies, we brake until the road,
It screaks an angels balance in perfume,
It lives us speechless any suffering,
Which we call on leaves as we are gone,
We adapt from storms a faithful life,
Our temple burns in stars duplicitous magnolias,
For ice airs barks begonias to our noses,
With burned spices on the coldest mountains,
A shout is the poem, Aztec treasure,
Chit-chat archipelago, words impregnated 
With our own culture have armies force,
But, dear book colleague, of readings book mate,
The poem is not the moment, but history of nature,
In which we tilt the balance in mornings,
Androgynous creature-boys-girls-boys.
With witness clothes, with strawberry brollies,
We go into sayings and into dear tales
And I’ll call you a taxi towards eternity,
To defeat with mysteries all humilities,
Alone in world having this luck,
We throw over the shoulder the unicorn horseshoe,
Swards we come into leaf, we bloom rackets in rhapsode lyrics,
To win wars with unforgotten words,
We remain in reading, as long as we are mentioned.

tr. M.R.M. Monica Rodica Muscalu


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