The Letters
(Leonard Cohen)
You never liked to get
The letters that I sent.
But now you've got
the gist
Of what my letters meant.
You're reading them again,
The
ones you didn't burn.
You press them to your lips,
My pages of
concern.
I said there'd been a flood.
I said there's nothing left.
I
hoped that you would come.
I gave you my address.
Your story was
so long,
The plot was so intense,
It took you years to cross
The
lines of self-defense.
The wounded forms appear:
The loss, the
full extent;
And simple kindness here,
The solitude of strength.
You
walk into my room.
You stand there at my desk,
Begin your letter
to
The one who's coming next.
Unicat. Caseta din lemn decorata cu tehnici de decoupage (servetel de orez si hirtie de
orez) si sablon, vopsita cu vopsea acrilica, baituita si lacuita pentru
protectie.
Toate
materialele folosite sint pe baza de apa (non-toxice).
(Indisponibila)
Foto Ionut Trandafir
http://www.itrandafir.com/