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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=492956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sketches Of Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">early morning<br>it will be the same sound<br>of cocks<br>crowing, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">harbingers of<br>a new day</div><div style="margin:10px 0">up on the tree<br>their only guide whether to<br>take the jump<br>to the ground is the<br>sun, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">she is safe in sleep<br>as i take the usual journey<br>again<br>with all the cocks<br>crowing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the trees have black leaves<br>roads and fences are bold strokes<br>of the Chinese brush<br>from a painter in Vietnam<br>i remember<br>his feet are cut</div><div style="margin:10px 0">one wonders if we can be whole<br>again<br>when the fragile glasses of our arms<br>are all broken</div><div style="margin:10px 0">early mornings when<br>the hens are silent</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when the ref murmur<br>a nameless song</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when i sound like an empty <br>gong<br>love emaciated<br>like a malnourished<br>African child</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>one exhibits the boredom<br>of his words like <br>one malling without anything<br>in mind to buy<br>nothing specific except<br>the will to kill time<br>that does not serve<br>any use</div><div style="margin:10px 0">at the pasta room<br>where the tea people are not around<br>on one table the two lesbians are drinking beer<br>while the two queers on the <br>other table near the rest room<br>are exchanging some pleasantries<br>of notes<br>they are not singing<br>but giggling</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a man that they call as dark and handsome<br>passes by<br>it is strange because he is not wearing anything<br>his face is covered with black cloth<br>as though he is bound<br>for the gallows</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is yet no food on my table<br>the waitress is busy biting her nails<br>the mother beside a kid is slapping herself</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is strange here and i put some money on the table<br>and leave</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i need some air to breathe<br>this world is suffocating.</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>
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<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=492956" data-title="Sketches Of Life de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="early morning
it will be the same sound
of cocks
crowing, 

harbingers of
a new day

up on the tree
their only guide whether to
take the jump
to the ground is the
sun, 

she is safe in sleep
as i take the usual journey
again
with all the cocks
cro..."></div>
</div>
</div>