Dumitru Matcovschi Poezii -

“The silence between the drops,” he said. Then he began to recite, not from the book, but from a place deeper inside him:

When she walked back to the house, she did not carry a message for the delegation. She carried the book. She would read them the poems herself. And if they did not understand, that was all right. Dumitru Matcovschi Poezii

She looked at the book in his hands. The cover was faded, the spine cracked. Dumitru Matcovschi’s face, stern and kind, stared out from the back. Her grandfather had carried this book through the last years of the Soviet Union, through the reawakening of the language, through the dusty days of independence and the hungry winter that followed. “The silence between the drops,” he said