.. The albatross killed by Nicolae Labiş When the wind has turned trees at the sea,
And in the velvet of the shadow, the sand was numb,
He carefully pulled a wave carefully and sat him down
On a shrine of shells shining. At the edge of boiling sea life
He is abnormally stingy, chubby, but killed. Still watch the waves away
With the neck of the neck bent up. Dirty and salty are the open wings,
The storm that had struck him sings to him a dull end song.
Multicolored glow around him dead shells Whose kernel heats it eats it. Waves projected on dry and hard shore
They died without the now rich glow fight, They are disturbed by their white and blinding
light, His wing with black mud. Above, shout in the air and dance in sudden
jumps, Defying infinity, a young seagull.
The warrior of the storm floated between the mollusks
He throws a new one into his eyes. When the breeze is curved, the wing is lowered
And, rejected for a moment by an invisible desire,
Do you feel like flying again, last time, To a more sober and dignified cemetery.