I heard that a black balloon,
Reached one day the moon.
He anchored himself on it's soil,
His inside air began to boil.
He was so up,
He didn't use a map,
He knew everything that could be known,
But oh, a gentle spacy blow,
Pushed him in nowhere,
But, he was unaware.
Our small friend,
Hardly began to understand,
That nothing's certain,
There's always another curtain,
Which slowly raises when you least expect,
What's behind can make you wrecked.
In the void there's nothing,
Suddenly, someone starts laughing.
Our friend feels scared,
Small, and unprepared.
Is something there?
Or his brain just were?
O, small balloon,
Why you had to go to moon?
Now you're lost in no-man's land,
Your back begins to bend.
Lost between earth and space,
Lost between love and disgrace.
Why you tryed to achieve,
Something that some only believe?
Well, I'll give you an advice,
Without any price,
A friend of mine told me once,
Between love and hate you should bounce,
When you're feeling one too much,
The one you shouldn't touch,
Approach it's opposite a little,
And try to find the middle.
You've got the answer to the riddle.
Is my friend still lost?
Or he found something to trust?
Something or someone,
Something or someone.
YOU ARE READING
Stejarul tăiat
PoetryMulţi afirmă că viaţa fără poezie ar fi un nimic monoton, lipsit de frumos şi expresivitate. Dar cum ar fi viaţa fără poeziile MELE? Probabil mai bună. Dar de ce să riscăm? Limba poeziilor va alterna între Engleză şi Română, nu pentru că mă dau mar...
