Friday, September 07, 2007


Standing still on the edge of life

I call upon the northern wind to take away my pain

Straining muscles before I dive

And still afraid of things that might remain

Before the wind starts cutting like a knife

I tilt my head to taste the droplets of the rain

I lean and jump into the hive

Feeling my hair shield my falling frame

And then there’s nothing not a sound

And I can hear the rain start crying out my name


At 9:02 AM, Blogger Lapa said...


He has, also, translated into Portuguese the Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith.

He has been awarded several prizes.

Don't forget the name of this great author, you'll be hearing of him soon.

Thank you for spending time in Universal Culture.

Thanks for visiting.

At 9:20 AM, Blogger Pablo (yo) said...

Great blog!!
If you like, come and visit mine:


At 12:00 PM, Anonymous dakota said...

Great poem. Thanks.

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At 12:03 PM, Blogger CIMPOACA LAURENTIU said...

nice poem...


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