I sculpted you from fountains,
from peony fields in vegetable colors,
from long strips of springs in green gradients,
from my tear under the eyelid,
from the elegies, from the sound of the violin,
from paintings and icons, from layers of snow,
from shadows of mysteries.

But you, only, carved the shout of love,
smiling in your bitter silences
with your immensity indifference
like an opposite magnetic pole,
while I am devotion, you are a wall,
a wall that hits with carelessly.

I sculpted you animated in clay,
from blind candles and smoke,
realizing that I don't even love you,
but the artifice created by the projection of my dream, and the dream is destined not to be lived.

Copyright © 2020 Corina Junghiatu