LeeDion

I don't want to die without understanding what you're saying. I don't want to die with a perplexed soul, knowing differently, lost on other plagues. I don't want to die with this sadness through the infinite arch of this sad dome where your dreams live under the midday sun. I don't want to die without you giving me the golden spheres of my body, the skin that covers me, the trembling that invades me.

A mystery burns in your eyes, virge elusive and companion. I don't know if the fire is the hatred or the inexhaustible love of your black friend. You will come with me until I cast a shadow on my body and I leave my sandal. -Are you thirsty for water on my way? - Dis-moi, vierge et compagne is elusive

I want to cry because I love you too much, I want to die because you gave me life, oh, mon amour, n'aurai-je jamais la paixest-ce that tout ce qui est en moi cela signifie juste nostalgie. And I don't even know what's gonna happen to me, all I know is that love will be my end. I didn't know what love was, now I know because I'm not happy.

For your green eyes I miss you, siren of those who Ulysses, sagace, loved and feared. For your green eyes I miss it. For your green eyes in what, ephemeres, parfois, melancholy shines generally; for your green eyes so full of peace, mystérieux comme mon espoir; for your green eyes, sort efficace, je me sauverais

You have me and I am yours. so close to each other as flesh with bones. so close to each other and, often, so far away!. You sometimes tell me that you find me closed, as if made of hard stone, as if wrapped in secrets, impassive, distant. And you would want yours the key to the mystery. If no one has. There is no key. Not even me, I don't even have it myself!

Sometimes I want to be angry and say, "I love you madly". Sometimes, I feel like I'm crying, I love her so much sometimes, I feel like I'm crying like a child. Sometimes I feel like I'm dead, feeling, under the wet soil of my sucks, that a flower grows on me, breaking my chest, a flower, and saying:

There are eyes that look, there are eyes that dream, there are eyes that call, there are eyes that wait, there are eyes that laugh - a pleasant laugh, there are eyes that cry - with tears of chagrin, some towards the inside, others towards the outside.. They are like the flowers that grow on the earth. But your green eyes, my eternal Teresa, those who make your hand of grass, They look at me, they dream of me, they call me, they attend to me, they mock me - a pleasant laugh, They weep me in tears - with tears of chagrin, from the inside, - from the outside

Love is a universal experience that touches us all, but sometimes we don't find the right words to express it. All along history, poets have been able to express what we all feel in a creative and eloquent way.

I remember your face that was frozen in my days, femme en jupe bleue et au front grillé, that in my childhood and on my terre d'ambroisie I saw the black sillon open in a burning April. He leaveth in the tavern, deepeneth the cup impure him that hath attached a fils à ton sein de lys, et sous ce souvenir, qui était une brûlure, the graine est tombée de ta main, sereine. I saw you harvesting your son's wheat in January, and without understanding I had my eyes fixed on you, enlarged with wonder and tears.

Sit down to the table. drink a glass of water. Savor every drink. And think all the time what you've lost. The one you're losing. Time What do you have left to lose

I turn my eyes into their incessant desire, and the world turns indifferently, and the sky turns indifferently. I'm sorry for your pain, my heart is in my chest.

Fleet the young flowers, trouble the sun of my hope, hour after hour I count and my agony They grow as well as my anxiety and my pain. Sur des couleurs rich in glass lisse peut-être que mon fantôme à l'air heureux, quand la triste réalité Il tache le verre et obscurcit are éclat I'm not sure I can see the light

My heart was stolen, and love, seeing my anger, said to me, "You have been taken through the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen". Thank you supernaturally they have you in prison. And if love is a reason, madame, by the signs, my heart belongs to you.

I know a hymn giant and strange which announces an dawn in the night of the soul, and these pages are of this hymn. I would like to write to you about the man who used a rebellious and mean language, with words that were in the same time, with sights and laughter, colours and notes.

Je te donne ça, il est important que tu en prennes bien soin et mon amour est en tenue légère parmi les pommiers, où les brises animées durent le plus longtemps run in company I'm going to give you this, it's important that you take good care of it and my love is in tenue légère among the apple trees, where the breezes are animated and you run in company for a long time. Where the jovial breezes dwell to courtise the first leaves of the south are passing, my love goes slowly, leaning towards the shade that rests in the grass.. And where the sky is a clear blue cup On the smiling earth, my love walks slowly,. Otherwise, I hope you'll come soon so you can see him much more in detail.

I know a hymn giant and strange which announces an dawn in the night of the soul, and these pages are of this hymn. I would like to write to you about the man who used a rebellious and mean language, with words that were in the same time, with sights and laughter, colours and notes.

Love of my loins, living death, I wait in vain for your written word and I think, with the flower that withers, that if I live without me I want to lose you. The air is immortal. He neither knows the shadow nor avoids it. Inner heart doesn't need the frozen honey that the moon pours

But I suffered. I tore my veins, tiger and dove, on your waist in a duel of bites and lilies. Then fill me with the words of madness or let me live in the serenity of the dark night.

I love you when you're silent, when you're like absent, and you hear me from afar, and my voice doesn't touch you.. It seems like your eyes have gone and it seems like a kiss closes your mouth. as everything is filled with my soul you come out of things, full of my soul. dream butterfly, you look like my soul, and you look like the word melancholy. I love you when you're silent and distant. and you're like a butterfly that complains, that rocks. And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you:. let me also speak to you with your silence clear as a lamp, simple as a ring. you are like the night, calm and starry. your silence comes from the stars, so far and so simple. I love you when you're silent because you're like absent. distant and painful as if you were dead. a word therefore, a smile is enough. And I'm glad, glad that it's not true

When you come to love, if you have not loved, you will know that in this world, the greatest and deepest pain is to be both happy and unhappy. Corollaire: l'amour est un abîme de lumière et d'ombre, of poetry and prose, et où se fait la chose la plus chère qui rit et pleure en même temps. Love is an abyss of light and shadow, of poetry and prose, and where the most cherished thing is done, which laughs and weeps at the same time.

Au coeur de la mine la plus secrète, A l'intérieur du fruit le plus lointain, Dans la vibration de la note la plus discrète, Dans la conque spirale et résonante, Dans la couche de peinture la plus dense, Dans la veine qui nous sonde le plus dans le corps, Dans le mot qui dit plus doux, Dans the vein that weighs the most, Dans le corps, Dans le mot qui dit plus doux, Dans the vein that weighs the most, Dans le mot qui dit plus doux, Dans la couche de peinture la plus dense, Dans la veine qui nous sonde le plus dans le corps, Dans le mot qui dit plus doux

I love you when you're silent, when you're like absent, and you hear me from afar, and my voice doesn't touch you.. It seems like your eyes have gone and it seems like a kiss closes your mouth. as everything is filled with my soul you come out of things, full of my soul. dream butterfly, you look like my soul, and you look like the word melancholy. I love you when you're silent and distant. and you're like a butterfly that complains, that rocks. And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you:. let me also speak to you with your silence clear as a lamp, simple as a ring. you are like the night, calm and starry. your silence comes from the stars, so far and so simple. I love you when you're silent because you're like absent. distant and painful as if you were dead. a word therefore, a smile is enough. And I'm glad, glad that it's not true

Woman, I would have been your son, for drinking you the milk of the breasts as from a spring, for looking at you and feeling you by my side and having you in the golden laugh and the crystal voice. For feeling you in my veins like God in the rivers and worshiping you in the sad bones of dust and lime

You love me the dawn, you want me in foam, you want me in mother of pearl. Whether it is Lily First of all, the caste. A light perfume. Corolla closed. Not a ray of moon has filtered me. Not a daisy Call it my sister. You love me snowy, You want me white, you love me alba You who were all the glasses at hand, fruit and honey purple lips You at the banquet covered with branches you left the meats celebrating Bacchus. You who in the gardens the blacks of deception red dress you ran to Havoc. You the skeleton preserved intact I don't know yet by what miracles, you make me pretend to be white (God forgive you), you make me pretend to be chaste (God forgive you), you pretend to me at dawn! Run into the woods, go to the mountains; clean your mouth; live in huts; touch with your hands the wet earth; feed the body with bitter root; drink from the rocks; sleep in the frost; renew the tissues with salpoxide and water: Talk to the birds and I will rise at dawn. And when the flesh is turned to you, and when you put in them the soul that across the chambers it tangled, So, good man, pretend me white, pretend to be snowy, Pretend to chaste me

My slave, fear me. Love me, you know. My slave! I am with you the vastest sunset of my sky, and in it my soul shines like a cold star. When they move away from you my steps return to me. My own whip falls on my life. You are what is inside me and is far away. Fleeing like a chorus of chased mists. Next to me, but where? Far, which it is far. And what, being far away under my feet, walks. The echo of the voice beyond the silence. And what grows in my soul like moss in ruins

What's up? Ma terre, it is you. My people? Mon peuple, this is you. Exil et mort pour moi, ils sont là you are not there Et ma vie? Tell me, my life, what is it, if it's not you?

I thought of you, of your hair that the shadow world would send, and I had a point in my life and I wanted to dream that you were a moi. I'm going to the ground with my eyes high. - to such a height that in a rage of rage or in miserable redness the human creature lights them up

Aimer est ce silence timid près de toi, sans que tu le saches, et souviens-toi de ta voix quand tu pars et ressent le chaleur de votre salutation. I love you when you are silent, and I love you when you are silent. To love is to wait for you as if you were part of the couch of sunshine, neither before nor after, for we are alone among games and stories on the land of the dead.

I don't want to die without understanding what you're saying. I don't want to die with a perplexed soul, knowing differently, lost on other plagues. I don't want to die with this sadness through the infinite arch of this sad dome where your dreams live under the sun of noon

Days and nights I've searched for you without finding the place where you sing I've searched for you through time in the high and across the river in the low You're lost in tears nights and nights I've searched for you without finding the place where you cry Looking to know that you weep and that you have wept for me you alone save the weeping and a beggar noir you make him crowned king of your hand

You have me and I am you. If you get close to each other like meat with bones. If you are close to each other and often far away! .

The sun can be darkened forever; the sea can dry up in an instant; the axis of the earth could break like a weak glass. All that death covers me of your funeral crêpe, but it can never put out the flame of your love.

couvre-moi, mon amour, le toit de ma bouche avec cette mousse extrême extrême, qui est le jasmin de ceux qui savent et de ceux qui brûlent, germé sur la pointe du corail rocheux. I'm going to have to go to the bathroom. I'm going to have to go to the bathroom. Rends-moi fou, mon amour, ton sel, fou ta fleur suprême lancinante et acérée, pliant sa fureur dans le diadème de l'œillet mordant qui se déchaîne (Rend-me your flower, my love, your salt, your flower is the highest and the most powerful)

I know a hymn giant and strange which announces an dawn in the night of the soul, and these pages are of this hymn. I would like to write to you about the man who used a rebellious and mean language, with words that were in the same time, with sights and laughter, colours and notes.

You have me and I am yours. so close to each other as flesh with bones. so close to each other and, often, so far away!. You sometimes tell me that you find me closed, as if made of hard stone, as if wrapped in secrets, impassive, distant. And you would want yours the key to the mystery. If no one has. There is no key. Not even me, I don't even have it myself!

The sun can be darkened forever; the sea can dry up in an instant; the axis of the earth could break like a weak glass. All that death covers me of your funeral crêpe, but it can never put out the flame of your love.

There are eyes that look, -there are eyes that dream, there are eyes that call, -there are eyes that wait, there are eyes that laugh -pleasant laughter, there are eyes that cry -with tears of sorrow, some inward - others outward. They're like flowers - the earth nurtures. But your green eyes, my eternal Teresa, those that are making your hand of grass, look at me, dream of me, call me, wait for me, laugh at me laughing pleasantly, cry me weeping with tears of sorrow, from the earth within, from the earth outside. There are eyes that look, -there are eyes that dream, there are eyes that call, -there are eyes that wait, there are eyes that laugh -pleasant laughter, There are eyes that cry -with tears of sorrow, some inwards - others outwards. They are like the flowers that the earth grows. but your green eyes, - my eternal Teresa, those who are making - your hand of grass, they look at me, they dream of me, they call me, they wait for me, they laugh at me - pleasant laughter, they cry to me tearfully - with tears of sorrow, from the inside, - from the outside. There are eyes that look, there are eyes that dream, there are eyes that call, there are eyes that wait, there are eyes that laugh - a pleasant laugh, there are eyes that cry - with tears of chagrin, some towards the inside, others towards the outside.. They are like the flowers that grow on the earth. But your green eyes, my eternal Teresa, those who make your hand of grass, They look at me, they dream of me, they call me, they attend to me, they mock me - a pleasant laugh, They weep me in tears - with tears of chagrin, from the inside, - from the outside

Love is a universal experience that touches us all, but sometimes we don't find the right words to express it.. Throughout history, poets have been able to express what we all feel in creative and eloquent ways. If you love me, love me all over, not by areas of light or shadow. If you love me, love me black and white, and gray, and green, and blonde, and brunette. Love me day, love me night. And early morning in the open window!. If you love me, don't cut me: Love me all. Or you don't want me. Love is a universal experience that moves us all, but sometimes we don't find the right words to express it. Throughout history, poets have been able to say what we all feel in creative and eloquent ways..

If you love me, love me whole, not in areas of light or shadow.. If you love me, love me black and white, and gray, green, and blonde, and brunette.. ♪ Love me day, love me night ♪ ♪ I'm going to be your man ♪.. And early morning at the open window!.. If you love me, don't cut me short: Love me all.. Or don't you love me. Love is a universal experience that affects us all, but sometimes we can't find the right words to express it. Throughout history, poets have expressed what we all feel in creative and eloquent ways.

If you love me, love me all the way, not in the dark or bright areas. If you love me, love me in black and white, and gray, green, and blond, and brown. I love you all the time. - I'm not. - I'm not. And early in the morning, the window was open. If you love me, you must not interrupt me. Or he doesn't love me..

I remember your face that was frozen in my days, femme en jupe bleue et au front grillé, that in my childhood and on my terre d'ambroisie I saw the black sillon open in a burning April. He leaveth in the tavern, deepeneth the cup impure him that hath attached a fils à ton sein de lys, et sous ce souvenir, qui était une brûlure, the graine est tombée de ta main, sereine. I saw you harvesting your son's wheat in January, and without understanding I had my eyes fixed on you, enlarged with wonder and tears..