agonia deutsch v3 |
agonia.net | Richtlinien | Mission | Kontakt | Konto erstellen | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Artikel Gemeinschaften Wettbewerb Essay Multimedia Persönlich Gedicht Presse Prosa _QUOTE Drehbuch Spezial | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
![]()
agonia ![]()
■ Ich hörte es kommen... ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Kontakt |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-01-11
| [Text in der Originalsprache: english]
I am a bird in flight,
that’s why I took the wind’s colour, that’s why I don’t stay on any shoulder. If I do so, they’ll bring too the colour of the wind converting their sole into storm. When I want to rest for a while I am opening from my wing only a feather....a sharp one, I put it for a moment on the shoulder so he could know and should not forget that I am alive: watching what I am doing where are going my thoughts, my words, my footsteps, my facts. There are many birds in flight and not all of them want to rest for a second only, but they are alighting, leaving an arid field under them.
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
Eine virtuelle Heimstätte der Litaratur und Kunst | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
Bitte haben Sie Verständnis, dass Texte nur mit unserer Erlaubnis angezeigt werden können.
Copyright 1999-2003. agonia.net
E-mail | Vertraulichkeits- und Publikationspolitik