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Poetul zilei
Ion Stratan
(1955 - 2005)

16 Poezii

Poezia de azi

Cornul de aur al baiatului
de Mircea Ivănescu
scena de dimineata cornul sunand departat,
prin hatisurile albastrii, chemarea la vanatoare glasul

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Povesti la caldura focului ( in engleza)

Vezi toate poeziile din albumul Hardflames
Sometime,anytime, the winds of Vallhala where so cold
Anytime everytime that was real the ages of gold
Ever and forever sins past the oceans lies on the cryes
Dancing in a old wooded chamber,the very best days
At the fire of swords that cut trough many ways
Little was the viking who's blood runned so bad
For the victory was thirsy, for the Livia was sad
He loved one girl in his whole live for what
When the sword came in his life and on the floor was her hat
From now on,he wanted revenge
His pain was so intense,she had so big-big range
When a ranger walked on the battle,with his weapon in the arms
When the field was passed by strangers,in some cold bloody runs
The victory was near,and they've winned again
But the painfull memoryes and hurt remain
Where is the truth,everywhere is world
world passin' away,lies are so cold
Lies that he not wanted to kill in so cold blood
but thirst for revenge is what that ever he want
now he can live great,but never forgeted what Livia said
that he is her hero and she wanted him so bad
To have many childrens and rise up a kingdom
where all the vikings can stay,for peace and freedom
Now his arms are so tired and cold to keep a farm
That the whisper of Livia, from now on is so warm,
walls whisperin the voice of her like a sound of a seagull
now ,all that he know is so saddest putted in the middle
middle of lies,turns and cryes,for what he needs to see the past
he is so painted by the misfortune and dust
and he suffer now most till the last
Ravaged are the spirits,ripped are the minds
But never forget what are his rights:
'' You're rights,vikings,are to live in suffering ,death and blame
Cuz you're son of Odin,son of the thunder and rain
You cut trough wars,with your shining blades
Voice of true gods,from now on be your pray''
Till the death,from the born,the viking trusted these words and learn about
The life that is so mean,unrespected and bad
He moved from his chair and he walked outside
He felt the grass once again trough his hands
He realized that was the thing who offers life and peace
But a rain started wild,prayin at what he truly miss
''My livia '' he told and blood-tears fell from his cheeks
his ankles full of mud where stoned and cold ,in his mind appearing pics
with Livia standing in his arms,beeing warm again
dying from suffering,but his power and honor shall remain
A wind surounded him,in a peacefull way to embrace
Tommorow never comes, is so full of grace!


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