Castigatorii sectiunii 'student'
Crizantema Mironeanu - Castigatoarea premiului I
I
The moment I understood
Life
collapsed on my shoulders And I'm
lucidity
cruel insomnia
In my mind dazzled
Me And I lit
Similarly
I
Shout
raging storm And in a moment suspended
haughty
ecru
And Present
torn In two eternities of black
I am And I'm
Solitude
On selfish or rude abyss
Thought I
I suffer
The Word
The world is sick of the word from birth. Barely one comes into existence as the mind knows the seduction speech and engaged in this unhealthy dependence engendered by the word, irresistible. Then the executioner
-prey ratio oscillates up the confusion of forces.
call a monster unconscious of itself, a rapist whose advantage is foolish to take things.
Speech is a tireless traveler, a peddler of meaning, a spider, passing from one to another, integrates all his canvas.
The word is the worst land of the spirit. Callus alienating invade the soul who tries to work. I manage to not knowing whether I worked or the word is the word that works. Nothing resists it. The fruits of this land is scarce and cursed. They excite my craving. Words ... these evils .... I need more, always more.
My curiosity led me to a question: Does the word die with the world or does it spoil other worlds too?
A cry.
I dare not question me. I do not say word.
Day
I have always enjoyed watching
From the day
Come, go and change attire
Like a mannequin in a procession
He always liked
This child's time in appearance
protein
Who sweats excited
Seconds and minutes
To entertain myself
And for me to offer me a surprenrde
life
Ready to wear
And I delight in the logical error
And I replay the day arrives
From day
one that seems crazy and fun
deliberate
In the warm music
From the sphere of fire
My day revolves friend
On its peak in the spin pink
In his new dance music on this
My twisted mind Naughty
wondered how many will stand
Time Ca
Lorena Antonovics - Castigatoarea premiului II
Yours
You ... always in your corner
.
And I
me playing with your silence.
We
angels falling in love
and speak the language
toys.
Whoever throws the first word
is destroyed.
I am always
who commit suicide
...
while you are looking for something
unknown.
You are the reason why
I declare myself crazy sometimes ...
extract myself
Brutal, insoluble, sorry, there
torn
you touch them every step of vertebrates
I put forward. And sometimes I open
a piece of my eye and I see
the rain, rain that passes
knees among a lost child.
I give him a drawing ...
a drawing in chalk on the asphalt
. We often
him to walk on and I hate people
want to add something.
Sometimes I break my fingers
... and I shudder a little ...
Broken, flourished between the stones
lonely, I'm looking
violently
earth.
Balls soap
still make me dream ...
Melancholy ...
Time unaffordable
give me butterflies
winter ...
and circles
paper
red and green and blue
covering the sky.
... and a tree beneath the sea
Dreams
sleeping ...
empty illusions,
systems that will eventually
the same sentence ...
stupid prayers that can not passéparer notions dead ...
Olga Anghelici - Castigatoarea premiului III
***
The mirror looks at me, I dissolved into his eyes -
My body cold as ice wearing a bright color of fire And the flames
caresssent me like the palms of the On
love the eyelashes of the night I escape a dead day
The ribs of my skin taste the pain of oblivion
All signs condemn me: I mistaken, I have betrayed
Mirror is always a witness, a executioner
is my language by the words choked moans
Like a drop of dew on a flower of grief and tearful
I am reborn each morning sublime
What a pity! Currency changes face every night
And I buried my frail soul in the eyes of a mirror
* * * *
Open your arms wide
So how you would try to kiss you in beyond being
Let your fingers sink into the extension of nerve pulses
screw with your blood
The warmth you feel while stroking your cells,
is the love that you raise in you, reflected in miles mirrors
without fear
The Look colors that glide on your retina
It is the children of your desires dumb
You read the signs that your palms cajole and how you read my being
I too am a broken sign of the silence of your body
approach me with your lips and I'll tell untying death
***
My coffin is one room with corners bumped
J ' adores his silence intoxicated by the end
absolve the past and I hunt tomorrow I
m'eteind ahead and I want to be after. The
always that fatigue and the second who died
The poison of the mile and a delight to torture
In this piece the fisherman who lives in me seems pure
And my shadow waiting for me beyond the door
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