Poezii

Nicolae Sirius The Hunt Ion, Johann, John: the deaf idol; Fool, villain and prince. Ion, Johann, John embraced the entire terrestrial Globe. Martha wants to get married? Do not cause any hindrance. Ion, Johann, John is at the gates? Is he the angel, wings spread, ever anticipating? Bring me my garments, dear, and my last Book. That name again? Never mind, don't tell me About him, or about Martha. You say a hill drowned? It died slowly, Gulped up by the bedrock of the sea Without ever having been sick. Did it sink slowly? Never mind, let it go, my dear, pass me My coat: the tally-ho of the hunt breaks the air. What is your purpose? Look at the base of the lake; Mourn the hill, if you can. Mourn the hill, I say, But leave me alone! Please pass my coat. Martha again? Do let her wed! Why now these tears? Bring me my bow and my Arrows. I'll chide you if you don't bring my map, Too. The sky is almost obscured. The hunters are leaving And you still keep unbuttoning my sentimental Buttons, in the clutch of your full strength. Now Please understand; the sun has run its hard Course; the hunt has commenced. My bow is all that I wish. Poetry page