Stefan Petrea Poems

it still falls beautifully with a wet body
giving birth to snow silences
at the mouth of the stove, old fairy tales are heard
child, you can easily believe in them.
...

The Peace

Of My Soul
...

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.
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Being a boy, I had forgotten death
I remember it and I have snow in my hair
The walls of the casket await me in comfort,
Virgin, today you see your babies
...