Friday, February 08, 2008

Way

what is this road that separates us
across which I hold out the hand of my thoughts
a flower is written at the end of each finger
and the end of the road is a flower which walks with you

Tristan Tzara (1896 - 1963)
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2 comments:

  1. Anonymous9:43 pm, February 09, 2008

    oh i like this it is with flowers. nice. are the other poems of Tzara also that nice?

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  2. Kubla Khan10:55 am, February 10, 2008

    This is the only one I have in an anthology. there are some on the internet though.

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