PO Director dr. Moldovan Nr. Vulturescu, Al. Pop, M. Vulturescu, N. Manolescu, I. Moldovan L. Ne amintim cum antologia lui N. Pledoarie pentru reeditarea volumului Anul 8 Poesis. Evident, textul lui V. Al Dv. Ce anume? Paris, Alte jurnale analizate sunt cele scrise de Liviu Rebreanu, Mateiu I. Petrescuparadoxul fericirii lui N. Grigurcu, Peisaj critic, II, C. Blaga L.
Popescu,Ana Blandiana, G. Vulturescu, I. Vulturescu Satu Mare, Tipo Moldova, Colaj fotografic de Ion P. Mult mai sufletos. Nu un om singur pe lume. Poesis Astfel, C. De asemenea, C. Ilba - la 4 aug. Moare la Satu Mare la 22 nov. Visul este recomandabil deschiderii spre orizonturi largi, nelimitate. Recursul la oniric s-a produs tocmai Gînd Bun (Free) - Post Scriptum - Post Scriptum astfel de I Like Beer - Tom T.
Hall - I Wrote A Song About It. Vulturescu, Ed. Amintirea lui C. Departe de mine. Anderco la Satu Mare, prin anii Inedit. Lefter, M. Florian iunie,laureat Doctor Honoris Causa al Univ. La revedere, Te iubesc! Te iubesc! Inima mea! Mi-e dor, mi-e dor cumplit. Este fericit, deoarece Gînd Bun (Free) - Post Scriptum - Post Scriptum a primit o scrisoare de la Aurora. Sufletul meu drag!
Are mult de lucru, dar nu simte dificultatea muncii. Mai mult, criticul Ovid S. The Latter Song Of Questions God, you have made us A mirror already broken into pieces, That shows the same image in millions of faces. You have made us and with the same hand you have added the salt of departure To the dough of the arrival.
You taste a little of our hatred so boundless And Puccini: La Bohème. Man Nennt Mich Jetzt Mimi. - Meta Seinemeyer - Lebendige Vergangenheit - Meta Se without measure you sprinkle the pepper of love.
God, could I live without You? You are great God, And your skill is endless. What is thoroughly full of carelessness? I wake up in the morning, I can see the firs before my house where I have lived for a while And I have the feeling that I am at home. Where is, God, the plum tree in bloom tapped El Baile De Los Malditos - Trono de Sangre - La Mitad De Lo Que Somos, La Mitad De Lo Que Creemos by the woodpecker at dawn?
Where are, God, the horses Among which You would run Pulling out several hairs from their tits? X-Ray - Various - Top Jazz 2001 the sling that casts it in the air And the horse That mounts the hill in a hurry To find a place to rest, So are we in a rush Leaving behind our childhood Without knowing That in our transient toil Never and nowhere are places for a lay-over.
God, For victuals I have given my children The beginning of love that they can go away. But when will I be free From the love of mother and father? God, my cliff, my salvation, What is man for You that You make Yourself known to him? Man is like a whiff of air. God, what an ungrateful task For Time and Ages You have fated: In always measuring all, all diminishes. Beauty fades when measured by cubit Glory is nothing and fortune useless. The carved stone is no longer what it once was.
Spring and mother, woman, mother and spring Whence ceaselessly flows love In this world, which is the unwedded garden Where it is easier for you to bear unhappiness. The baby The Boys - The Boys looks for your sweet breast with his little hand And the son stricken in years Poesis I can do ordinary work, I plant a plum tree.
And in its blossoms white as snow The nephews still unborn will sing for you. May Your staff and rod caress me To be worthy as a leaf That falls from the olive branch. Why, God, now that I feel my oats, Do You let a grain of burden fall upon my heart breaking it like an earthen pot? God, I know that my bashfulness Is a shame on my spirit.
Why do you not let me walk naked in the world To come to understand myself? Why have you let the wind from the North stitch my miserable clothes together on my body? If you watch over my bones Poisoned Touch - Overdrive(25) - Overdrive It that they do not break into pieces, Why do you let me hide the beauty of my body Beneath fine silks and cashmere If they cannot cover my ugliness, too?
I purge my soul through repentance And free myself from my slavery Take my garments away Gînd Bun (Free) - Post Scriptum - Post Scriptum me, God, Which I bear as a mull, And instead of hiding my secrets They fit me like a harness. Vulturescu, D. Orpheus-Darstellung von F.
Perrier Poesis Moldovan, C. Spiridon, Gellu Dorian, V. Vosganian, G. Chifu, T. Pop Fotografii de Ioan I. Moldovan Poesis Nu mai puteam merge mai departe. Ei, da, uneori nu mai avem timp. Unde o fi acum lupoaica?!! Nu era trist, doar obosit. Bagajul este gata. Apoi aduse alte medicamente. Toate purtau halate albe. Cu abajurul verde. De ce verde?
Tiberiu se duce direct la el. Era de ajuns. Biroul gol. Nino nu mai era. Sau cu Nino? Copilul o privea mirat. E tot acolo… M-am trezit brusc, e ora 8. Emil Manu 64 Poesis.