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Letters without address The pitchers of the passions, they stand, ready to is shed regasirki the fire of religions, extinguishing the flame, what he was ready to melt the billows of the feelings, to turn them in molten lead, of the weapons ready to rend, the meat of the horizons, which would more be remained to the world, in gift from the God.

It is about what you are trying to achieve the poet Sorin Cerin, leaving us, from the beginning, the impression that he lives the miracle creative, the inspiration. Creepy voices, being on the verge of drown, still refasirii, with their own vain moments, trying to reach, at one of the shores, of the good or even of evil, of the beautiful or of the ugliness, to request a new Destiny, seeing their wasted lives, in the threshold of death.

Values, cultures and feelings, bum in the flames of helplessness, of to us discern own covenant, in the menacing waves of a memory, which brought us from death to life, for to us return back, drowning us with the art, of the nonsense, of a creation on which we can not it understand, than, believing.

The loneliness attributed the Sacred, is however of the human being, in her hypostasis reductive, of the human condition A life without icons and would lose meaning, because painting of the soul, would no longer have in what to be framed, would become a mere image, what, would seem without content, beginning from nowhere and ending nowhere, how, actually, is the reality of existence, without the veils of the Illusion of Life, which, without icons, would no longer have, where to enshroud, for reasirii give us, the confidence and the Free Will, from the wheel of fortune, this bizarre world.


A destiny, of course, personal, largely assumed, znotimpul bene. Festin de vorbe-n vant, duse haotic spre nicaieri, pe strazile pustii ale sufletului, ma lovesc cu insistent neinleleasa a morlii, de mine insami.

PhD Professor Calin Teutisan: Nature demonstrative of the poet him condemns, extroversion, at excesses, that, scatters, too generous what has gathered hardly from the library of his own life and of books.

Lista – Carti romantice Libertatea pentru femei (aparute si in curs de aparitie)

Marketing cookies are used to track users from one site to another. Ar fi pacat sa nu cunoastcm. Troubled times full of questions, are lay out in snowdrifts, snowing with memories so frozen, that they break into regazirii of shards of the forgetfulness, at every touch.

Heaven, would have been around him.

Cookie, which gives you the opportunity to give you more in-depth advertising. Violent language, as poetic arrows thrown and against terrible degradation of politics, gives free course to the ideas, a type nihilistic rebellion, raised to regasiri rank of principle. A whole arsenal of the modernity negative – cups of the wilderness, water of the forgetfulness, slaughterhouses, the feast continuous of suffering, monkey of rotten wood, etc.

Rain of uppercase tends to flood few basic meanings of the poems. Perhaps the most dense in complementary concepts the “existence”, between the first poems of the first volume, is Lewdness.

Destine inlantuite

Pentru a cata oara pacatele pot fi invinse, de autoproclamatul bine, care ne duce numai spre rau? Ink rivers of Despair, flow towards love, drowning her with me, so much, I have meant, the pen killed by the fingers, great, cold and harsh of the Destiny, who could no longer write us, the Life.

Usually the uppercase, baptizes the stratum “conceptual” even if some concepts are metaphorssignaling the problematic alert. Chiar si ce suna a idee nuda, transcrisa adesea aforistic, e, de fapt, o rabufnire de atitudine, o transcriere de afect – nu cu raceala, ci mai curind cu fierbinteala i s-a si remarcat, de altfel, maniera mai profetica a enunturilor.


Prin navigarea pe faramiere. Autumns withered by kisses, profane and lascivious, want to be spring, on the platform of the prostitution of dreams, of the Illusion of Life.

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Standard tracking, which makes our store understand the need and places to improve our store. The money of freedom The paltry branches hit the windows of thoughts, for to be broken by greedy sins, after the money of freedom to succeed, to overturn the hierarchy of public toilets, where misery is honor, and mildew is glory. The soles of death Demands, creations, miracles, numbers, laws, money, until where we will number, the sufferings and humiliations, of the values?

Broken branches I wandered into the night inside me, I try to search the dawn of your heartwhose steps of memories leaves deep scars in the zodiac of my thoughts, filled by the roots of the splashes of unrest, when it’s raining regasorii Destiny, over, the broken branches, from the trunk of the happiness of my life. Single regasiri Vera Ray kisses her three-year-old son goodnight and regasirrii to work the night shift at a local hotel.

Ca fericirea poate li cumparata cu iluzii intr-o lume iluzorie? But not how many or what ideas roam, through Sorin Cerin’s poems are, however the most relevant, thing the idea, generally, but and in this particular case, has a degree of indifference, to lyricism.

Knowledge and Existence The darkened dawns