Trec zile ~ George Bacovia

Curg zilele spre cimitir
Trist, una câte una,
Şi destrămând al vieţii fir
Se duc pe totdeauna.

Şi-acolo, încet, molcomitor,
Se-adună în suspine
Cu-un dor de “mâine” sora lor,
Cu-un dor de mine.

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