the irony bug – il verme dell’ironia – viermele ironiei

valeriu dg barbu

trilingual text

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there are words that fill my heart with fright
there are syllables that I rather skip
none of them deserves the height
for giving my bones a stab of meaning deep..
.
trying to give purpose a name
I end up even more broken than before
what this is trying to convey is
that I better speak no more..
.
to write?.. The letters are a scythe blade
purposely twisted to make incisions
the thought, the thought?… What a beautiful green glade..
my mind, poor thing, a sheep grazing on illusions
.
my heart is pressing hot ideals
a crossroads of boiling rivers
hopes drown like gypsies close to the shores
and everything ends in the echo of the towing bells
.
nothing holds my interest
the ennui is dressed in fake joy
and not out of wisdom, my speech I’ll arrest
but even in my dreams I’m…

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