W.Gomulicki - Czary.docx

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Czary                                                                                                                                                                  Zdaje mi się, że złociściej                                                                                                                                   Palą się latarnie,                                                                                                                                                                                      Że posągi pośród liści                                                                                                                                                       Mrugają figlarnie;                                                                                                                                                                                              Zdaje mi się, że pojazdy                                                                                                                                                                           Do rytmu turkoczą,                                                                                                                                                       Że nie świece, ale gwiazdy                                                                                                                                                                                                     W ulicach migoczą;                                                                                                                                   Zdaje mi się, że tęczowo                                                                                                                                      Lśnią kamienic ściany,                                                                                                                                         Że mozaiką marmurową                                                                                                                                   Chodnik wykładany;                                                                                                                                                              Zdaje mi się, że przechodnie                                                                                                                                              W uśmiech stroją twarze,                                                                                                                                                                             Że ich serca biją zgodnie,                                                                                                                                                                         Jak młotki w zegarze;                                                                                                                               Zdaje mi się, że krzewiną                                                                                                                                                                          Wstrząsa nimfa płocha;                                                                                                                                             Że z ogrodów szmery płyną:                                                                                                                                                                 „Kocham, kochasz, kocha”;                                                                                                                                                             Zdaje mi się, że w lazurze                                                                                                                                        Mkną anielic wianki,                                                                                                                                                                       Że mnie wabią oczy duże            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