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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-11 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | Înscris în bibliotecă de Sorana Lucia Salomeia
The Scale With a Single Pan
I'm guilty only for that which I have not done. Tropical forest grown among colonnades Of temples in which I did not pray, Oceans of leaves In which I did not bury, Enemies I did not hate, Swords I refused to fight with, Words I did not learn to shout, Bodies I did not love, Game I did not kill, Rivers in which I did not drown, Sunrises I didn't have time to watch, Peaks I didn't get to climb, Museums arranged in the flowers of lilies Whose fragrance I never felt! All these will have the right to accuse me. And my deeds, no matter how good, Will never be able to hold the equilibrium, No matter how unstable, Because it is not between the good and the bad That the final scale judges, But between having been and having not been.
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