Anthology of wounds - Arct

The world of a languageAnthology of WoundsThe sun came out from the cloud, lightening, in thethought over covering of Dranja between the books. Theentire place was fired, all the plants, the door, and thehearth inside.Pure spouts, the rays on the corners sounds, and wasborn lights, in the walls in the suffocated shapes of thelight, everything in miniature, everything double, headsof snakes with their many tongues outside ….in one side,and in the other-medicines all with their curing names,The thought over covering seemed like a sun.Looking outside, the entire soul seemed like awoman, bound with words, as the flies on the tree, andon the head and the brain, dragon blood in the tongues.Triumph, triumph of the breath of the soul, triumph!But through that light looked that inside the lines -thought over covering, inside in the inside of the woman,decayed the meaning of seed of the words on the sleepinessbefore getting up. That’s why there were no sounds.Sluggish bloodWhen the march was over I waited something nice,like a good omen. But only the clothes were broughtand moved the snow over the top of the mountain.“Better look outside,” my mother said in her ownway. We do our duty we never retire. The three oldwomen together said.I gazed a place when the snow finish and the forestbegan and began the high begins. There were goats and252