Noapte de iarnă

Îți urez pentru ultima oară "Noapte bună!"
Sau cel puțin asta aș vrea să fac.
Însă, privind în sus pe cer la lună
Înghit cuvintele, greu, și tac.

Îmi mușc buzele tremurânde
Și nu vreau decât să nu-mi mai fie frică.
Îmi închid încet genele plăpânde
Rugându-mă să nu pățesc nimică.

Simt gustul amar al sângelui cald în gură
Și-l înghit cu sete de vampir
Deschid ochii și mi-i arunc spre lună
Ce-și varsă lumina pe cimitir.

Aș vrea și să nu-mi mai fie frig ;
E-atât de rece încât zăpada-mi pare caldă.
Căzută, în soapte surde gem și strig
Privind cum însangerez zăpada.

Dar ce rost are să mai plâng?
M-aplec încet și sărut omătul
Iar mâinile reci la piept mi le strâng
Așteptând să se rupă sărutul.

Și-ncet mă albesc precum neaua
Și-urez lumii "Noapte bună!".
Privesc cum încet mi-apune steaua
Și-adorm pe zăpada sângerandă...

Alter Ego II. Self-love

The only dance I know is running. The only tears I shed are pure ice. I do not believe in the existence of love and when told that it's real I object. I know I'm right. I'm always right. I reached a certain level of maturity and intelligence that cannot be reached by many. I observe - I look at the world and what it is made of. I know it very well, maybe too well. I know its people. They are all soulless and fake and hypocrite. None of them is sincere. And all in all, why would they be? The truth not only hurts, but it also takes away a great deal of money and success, and that's what people are after. So why tell the truth?
I seldom take part in this world, though I live in it. But when I do, I'm just like the others - a liar, a tool in the hands of hypocrisy and an atheist. I cannot stand this filthy prison filled with always happy people who belong to the finest society, or the ones who do nothing but beg for money.
I absolutely despise both of them for they're both stealing money - one way or another. And all trough lies! And yes, I know how to notice the lies. In fact, I know it so well that it's become something easy for me. I look at the rich people who try to convince themselves that they are some kind of gods ; I look at the poor people who do nothing for themselves and prefer to beg. I loathe them. I loathe them all.


The only dance I know is running. Running alongside with love - yes, love! What can be purer that perfection? And this is perfection! It feels as if it's alive, for I feel it, and not only me. How can one not believe in it? How can some not believe in God, when God gave us love? Only by feeling the warmth of the sun that inner peace takes over... It's real. I know it's real.
What would our world be without the truth? It hurts, of course it hurts... But still, it is the one thing that can heal wounds and provide justice. Without the truth, our souls may never be at peace.
I love this world in which I live. I love the fresh morning air and summer nights spent on a green field. I love to be a happy person by doing things that please me - reading, especially. A high level of culture is needed in my life - my soul demands it. I love to laugh and to breathe. I love to love.
Alas, this is perfection!