Plîns de cobe pe la geamuri se opri,
Şi pe lume plumb de iarnă s-a lăsat;
“I-auzi corbii!” – mi-am zis singur… şi-am oftat;
Ninge gri.
Ca şi zarea, gîndul meu se înnegri…
Şi de lume tot mai singur, mai barbar, –
Trist, cu-o pană mătur vatra, solitar…
Iar în zarea grea de plumb
Ninge gri
Corina Crisu | Rewriting | Polytropic Identities in the Postmodern African American Novel | Chapter VIII | “Speak up, Ike, an ‘Spress Yo’se‘f” | Sentimental Romance Revisited in Ntozake Shange’s “Betsey Brown”
Our humanity has been so little explored and so little made available to us through art that sometimes we doubt it ourselves and live one-dimensional lives because that’s all we imagine can be possible. Literature, if it does nothing else, should stimulate one’s...


