The Romanian language is made up
of a single word that leaps up
on the mute lips of the Rumanian ‒
îîîîîîîîîîîîî ‒ lying down in a deep
valley with his ass up dizzy
where humane people have never existed
îîîîîîîîîîîîî... and thus the misfortune grows
more promptly than a mechanism,
mechanisms that pullulate simultaneously
with the beast that polishes the new monsters
and she grows so badly and his raison d’être
escapes us.
No comments:
Post a Comment