Vânt de primavara

Zboară-n continuu petale albe de flori,

Și se-așeaza  jos ca un preș subtire și nestatornic;

Zborul lor mă surprinde plecând intr-o doară

Catre lumi firav suspendate...

Legănatul lor e dulce, dar apoi mă amețește,

Și cad pe pământul afânat și neclintit. 


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