138 We are wed by the days that are bent in the ring -- To begin when we end, ending when we begin, Circling on the arena of circus in spring, In one lingering moment of how, from the rim, Seeds dare fall, but in falling, can't land on my ground, Leaves are swollen in pain, but can't burst from your buds, Swings dare sway to the future -- then back to the past, We dare look at each other, but only through masks.







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IRENE CĂSAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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