Poem Of Voiculescian Type Poem by Stefan Petrea

At the loss of time symptom, I win the grave
In the height of the stars with the spirit it deepens
In my disease, the twilight imprisoned like a pincer
Although I don't perish in an instant, just say the word.
Alone with brandy in laziness I make my living
Migraines only in traces in the morning risk
While coffee silently regains my speech
And the sacred sparrow came alive in the pelt.
The coffin is waiting mercilessly in the keys
To unlock with my thirst the end of the clay
And my joints with time to end
To throw into my soul what infinity gives birth to.
Because of the light, the effect should be soft
Sometimes in Log-canoe, you find the lead defect.