<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485582" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>America</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">america, i wonder what snow is, <br>they say it is cold and pure and smooth<br>and too fragile to the warmth of our fingers, <br>in a second dissolving into tears, <br>i may be wrong, i know it has no salt of the earth, <br>i know that for certain for i have taken<br>a little of chemistry and<br>have studied some ramifications of the weather<br>and have even tasted the whirls of <br>storm in my country of brown<br>monkeys, brothers all, in the hinter hills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i think snow is cool, I haven't touched it yet.<br>but i have heard about some rumors, <br>that i better stay here and not touch it anymore, <br>because i may break my heart<br>since it sings utter loneliness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am bombarded with apples though<br>in the market stalls they are now cheap<br>some of the best <br>not from America but China<br>and Japan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I do not like the taste of apples.<br>Neither shall i like, i know, the taste of snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So finally, i have decided to just stay here<br>and rot.<br>Who knows, I can be the best humus for change<br>who knows, also for growth? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, they call it progress in the wilderness and poverty of the <br>Third World.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485582" data-title="America de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="america, i wonder what snow is, they say it is cold and pure and smooth and too fragile to the warmth of our fingers, in a second dissolving into tears, i may be wrong, i know it has no salt of the earth, i know that for certain for i have tak..."></div> </div> </div>

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