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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-07-09 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] | Veröffentlicht von Maria Tirenescu
The first day of the year –
the ancient hunting rifle shining like brand new * A fawn in the bush – the hunter’s forefinger pulling the trigger * The nightingale’s chant hushed up all of a sudden: the roaring gun’s shot * The greedy vixen jumping and catching at once the sole bird’s shadow * Barefoot through the grass... the ants are all going round both my unshod soles * Almost end of the day – the hunter’s shooting pocket stuffed only tales * In the fierce beast’s eyes seeking for an easy kill the day is setting * - Hey cuckoo nestling, come hither to hang around with the street children! * The autumn lurching – in the cobweb in the tree the first fallen leaves * Hear the woodpecker – with each knocking in the tree another leaf falls * Only empty nests... How many of them will be filled again next spring?
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