agonia deutsch v3 |
agonia.net | Richtlinien | Mission | Kontakt | Konto erstellen | ||||
Artikel Gemeinschaften Wettbewerb Essay Multimedia Persönlich Gedicht Presse Prosa _QUOTE Drehbuch Spezial | ||||||
|
||||||
agonia Empfohlene Texte
■ kosmologie
Romanian Spell-Checker Kontakt |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2011-01-19 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] | Veröffentlicht von alexandru moga
There are blows in life, so powerful . . . I don’t know!
Blows as from the hatred of God; as if, facing them, the undertow of everything suffered welled up in the soul . . . I don’t know! They are few; but they are . . . They open dark trenches in the fiercest face and in the strongest back. Perhaps they are the colts of barbaric Attilas; or the black heralds sent to us by Death. They are the deep falls of the Christs of the soul, of some adored faith blasphemed by Destiny. Those bloodstained blows are the crackling of bread burning up at the oven door. And man . . . Poor . . . poor! He turns his eyes, as when a slap on the shoulder summons us; turns his crazed eyes, and everything lived wells up, like a pool of guilt, in his look. There are blows in life, so powerful . . . I don’t know!
|
||||||||
Eine virtuelle Heimstätte der Litaratur und Kunst | |||||||||
Bitte haben Sie Verständnis, dass Texte nur mit unserer Erlaubnis angezeigt werden können.
Copyright 1999-2003. agonia.net
E-mail | Vertraulichkeits- und Publikationspolitik