Unborn son – figlio mai nato – copilule nenăscut

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text


Come, my son, birth and death are not democratic,
Nor stories, life is merely a sort of tourism, death a slumber…
So, you can’t choose, can’t either rely on apparent coincidences..
Come, you’ll receive your right to a slice of the air, of the sun, of the soil
Through heredity you’ll get only the burdens of you future…
You’ll visit this sublime land of sufferance,
You will be taught according to the norms of major interests
Your smile is already listed on the stock exchange, you already have debts
You will be able to be what you want if
You’ll know how to see the deceit of waiting, of your own goals
Among the lies of global promises
If you are human, above anything else, and you find answers to no matter what questions only in your life burnt heart
Because you have to learn on your own…

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