a sonnet from a portuguese
silvia on Dec 7th 2006
mi-era dor de poezie victoriana; mi-am adus aminte de pitar mos cu salile de curs atat de mici si porumbeii aia enervanti de pe sarmele de telegraf si de biblioteca cel putin ciudata de la subsol. pacat ca citesc mult mai putin acum.
“Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through,
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.”
citind poezie victoriana mi s-a facut dor de keats 
“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness”
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