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On the top of the world (haibun)

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Tibet stretches before my footsteps. I can barely distinguish the form of the houses from this height. The wind is wiping my cheek. My face is all red, the tears run down on my cheeks, but I am happy. I am the tallest human, I am there where few have managed to get. I am alone, a brown spot in an ocean of white snow, untouched... cold on the summits and a pale light - howling through the snow I go up. I know I can\'t stop. The blizzard that started just moments ago covers my path. It\'s certain I won\'t be coming back on this road. In fact, I\'m almost certain that I won\'t be coming back at all. But this doesn\'t matter. It\'s a too beautiful dream to give up on it now... groups of snow-flakes stratum after stratum nested - white everywhere I am finally there. I can feel the roughness of the summit rocks. Here, the snow couldn\'t build up. The naked rock will always face time alone. I sit down carefully in a corner. The sun rays shine emptied. I am alone. But the whole world opens up in front of me. I watch the white summits, in perfect contrast with the blue sky. I sleep...
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Fluerașu Petre. “On the top of the world (haibun).” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/fluerasu-petre/jurnal/202463/on-the-top-of-the-world-haibun

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