The house from the mountain
Foot of region has grown up by the house
it’s the mountain that watches with strength the house
a summit with fir trees waits for dreaminess
from the happy house penetrates light.
Shiver of springs flows near the house
secret wave guides me to the door
that opens silently to my mirthful steps
the cowered hope stretches sleepily in bed.
Numbed in the morning second
I get drowned in drops of light
a high rumble, that increases lonely
gathers me in its breast, as the world that lies.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
Added by Poetry Lover
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