Translation and proofreading of Oana Nechita
Author : Dorina Neculce the poetry writer
I’m old today
I have grooved skin
of fallen tree I climb over the ruins and
I sing with a feather shifted in my temple I bend over and I write epitaphs
my hand is trembling as a violin
the touch of the bow
it dissipates me
through space
I become mistress wrapped in glass
the quiver breaks me
from thousands of pieces
I get myself together
-bloody dagger-
blotting out the dusk
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