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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496107" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Till</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till these eyes pop out from its sockets <br>Drop like marbles on the floor <br>Roll to dust and sand and be gone, <br>Till my back aches no more with <br>A thousand needles pricking me up higher <br>To my neck, my nape higher all over my head, <br>Till my arms break into quarters of bones <br>Till my hands disjoin from their fingers <br>Till this heart burst to segregated chambers, <br>Till my solid self disintegrates into meaningless pieces <br>Till everything in me returns to dust flies to air, <br>I will never cease composing all of you <br>Words without sounds, sounds without images <br>I will not <br>Stop giving you the image that you desire, the sound that would be musical, <br>To the ears of this world, to the farthest celestial ears of this universe, <br>My dear words, You all have the right to become my poetry, the poetry.</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=496107" data-title="Till de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="Till these eyes pop out from its sockets 
Drop like marbles on the floor 
Roll to dust and sand and be gone, 
Till my back aches no more with 
A thousand needles pricking me up higher 
To my neck, my nape higher all over my head, 
Till my arms bre..."></div>
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