Femeia cu rochie albastra

Mda, nu e chiar vesela, dar e frumoasa.
O poezie scrisa de o homeless de pe strazile Budapestei.
Publicata intr-o foaie "Homeless newspaper" care circula din mana-n mana prin centrul orasului.

OBJECTIVELY

The woman was 22
She didn't want to have a child yet.
Her husband is a bit older.
She'd got preganant.
Her housband bought her a light blue gown.
Prenatal exercises, varied diet
Her belly had swollen, in it the baby grew
The time had come.
She went to the hospital.
She gave birth to a child.
No complications.
She left him there.
She went home.
She missed him.
She brooded over it.
She ordered a cab.
She went back to the hospital.
She called the elevator.
She went up to the 2nd floor.
She got out.
She walked along the corridor.
She stood there in front of th door.
Her heart beat fast.
She drew a big breath.
She didn't knock on the door, just  turned the knob.
She opened the door.
The gown was there on the hanger and smiled at her.
Lighter and bluer than ever.

Illesi Bela Imre

La prima vedere poezia mi-a inspirat tristete - dar cine sunt eu sa judec alegerile facute de ceilalti?!

In final totul s-a terminat ce bine.
Femeia din poveste era fericita.