The poem is enclosed in the volume "Transatlantic Crossings. The Constant Language of Poetry" (TJMF Publishing, 2006; co-authored by D.M. Timney, Michael Cotner and Vasile Baghiu).

Today, when the sun is shining,
I guess you should look different
among all these ruins we have reached
by chance, having talked on a literary subject.
I’ve sought all the last time for the line,
for the uncertain border,
especially in the springs
when we enjoyed so much the blooming
and the stifling flowers.
Now I feel as if I were not me,
and I do not like when the pauses come,
the silent moments,
when we drop the eyes and do not say a word,
softly stirring in debris with the shoes’ tips.
I understand how it’s possible to say
that someone is conceited,
that he is so preoccupied with his body, his heart,
being also interested in
how his face will look in a distant future.
It could be something similar
to the warning sign we can see on the electricity poles,
on the flagons with poison in a laboratory,
or on the flags floating in the movies with pirates.
Today, when sadness is a background for our silence,
I think I should begin thinking more
about where is to come in what we are concerned,
with what makes the flowers into optimistic elements,
among all these forgotten old walls
having, still, a ciphered story to say.