Stau in fata celorlalti cu sufletul nud,/ De-aceea multi pe el cutitul si-l ascut. / Cand pe de laturi lama scapa,/ Din acel loc nu iese apa... / Nu vreau petrecerea sa-ti strici / Vazand aceste cicatrici,/ Ci ia-ma drept ceea ce sunt:/ O frunza lin purtata-n vant.
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