PaulinaOwens

Hey, I'm Pau, it's a pleasure to say hello, although I'd rather you come and talk to me, I'll wait for you

Hey, I'm Pau, it's a pleasure to greet you, although I prefer that you come and talk to me, I'll wait for you

Hey, my name is Pau, it's a pleasure to say hello, even if I prefer you to come talk to me, I'll wait for you

As she passes me she greets and behind the wind that gives breath to her early voice in the square light of a window is blurred, not the glass but the breath is early as a bell. It falls into the unlikely, like a fairy tale and when it cuts the thread of the moment it pours its white blood in the morning. If you wear blue and go to school, you don't know if you walk or fly because it's like the breeze, so light that in the blue morning you don't know which of the three that pass is the breeze, which is the girl and which is the morning.

As he passes he greets me and after the wind that gives the breath of his early voice in the square light of a window it fogs up, not the glass, but the breath It's as early as a bell. It fits into the implausible, like a story and when it cuts the thread of the moment The morning pours its white blood. If you wear blue and go to school, it's not possible to distinguish whether it walks or flies because it's like the breeze, so light that in the blue morning it's not necessary which of the three that pass is the breeze, which is the girl and which is the morning.

En passant, il me salue et après le vent ça donne le souffle de sa première voix à la lumière carré d'une fenêtre Ça embue, pas le verre, mais le souffle It is as early as a bell. ♪ It's like a story and when it cuts the thread of the moment ♪. If you wear blue and go to school, you can't tell if he's walking or flying because it's like the breeze, so light that in the morning blue it's not necessary.

I love you by the eyebrow, by the hair, I debate you in white corridors where the sources of light play, I debate you by every name, I tear you with the delicacy of scar, I put in your hair ashes of lightning and ribbons that slept in the rain. I don't want you to have a shape, to be exactly what comes behind your hand, because water, consider water, and lions when they dissolve in the sugar of the fable, and gestures, that architecture of nothing, lighting their lamps in the middle of the encounter. Every morning is the blackboard where I invent you and draw you

I love you for your eyebrows, for your hair, I debate with you in the very white corridors where they play the fountains of light, I debate with every name, I tear you from your scar, I place the ashes of light in your hair and the cassettes that sleep in the rain.. I don't want you to have a form, that you are precisely what happens behind your hand, because l'eau, considère l'eau, et les lions quand ils se dissolvent dans le sucre de la fable, et les gestes, cette architecture du rien, enlumant leurs lampes au milieu du match. Every morning is the blackboard where I invent and draw.

I love you for your eyebrows, for your hair, I debate you in corridors very white where the fountains play of the light, I argue with each name, I tear you off gently of scar, I'm putting lightning ashes in your hair and tapes that slept in the rain. I don't want you to have a shape, to be precisely what comes behind your hand, because the water, consider the water, and the lions when they dissolve in the sugar of the fable, and the gestures, that architecture of nothing, lighting their lamps in the middle of the match. Every morning is the blackboard where I invent you and draw

Woman, I would have been your son, for drinking the milk of your breasts like a spring, for looking at you and feeling you by my side and having you in the golden laughter and crystal voice. To feel you in my veins like God in the rivers and to worship you in the sad bones of dust and lime, so that your being would pass without pain by my side and come out in verse - clean of all evil. How I would know to love you, woman, how I would know to love you, to love you as no one ever knew! To die and still love you more. And still love you more and more.

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 worshipping you in the sad bones of dust and lime, because your being will pass without pain next to me and it came out in the verse - cleansed of all evil -. How would I know how to love you, woman, how would I know love you, love you like no one ever knew! Die and still love you more. And yet love you more and more.

Femme, j'aurais été ton fils, pour t'avoir bu le lait des seins comme d'une source, to look at you and feel you at my side and to have you dans le rire doré et la voix de cristal. To feel you in my veins like God in the rivers and I love you in the sad bones of the dust and the chaux, because your being passes without pain beside me and this is ressorti in the verse purified of all evil –. How will you know how I love you, femme, how will you know I love you, I love you like no one ever has! I love you more. And again I love you more and more.

Last love beyond death. Shall my eyes close the last shadow that will carry me to the white day, And may unleash this hour of my soul, To its flattering eager eagerness; But nowhere on the bank Will it leave memory, Where it burned: Swim knows my flame the cold water, And lose respect for stern law. Soul, to whom all a godly prison has been, Veins, which mood to so much fire have given, Medules, which have gloriously burned, His body will leave, not his care; They will be ashes, but will have meaning; Dust they will be, but dust in love.

Last love beyond death. The last can close my eyes Shadow that will carry me the day white, And I can free my soul Hora, à son empressement anxieux flatteur; Mais pas de cette autre partie du rivage Laissera le souvenir là où il a brûlé: "Here is the memory of the day when the river was burned". Swimming knows my flame, l'eau froide, Et lose respect for the severe laws. Soul, for whom a Dieu a été une prison, Veines, what humour ont-elles donné à tant de feu, Des moelles qui ont glorieusement brûlé, Their body will part, pas ses soins; They will be ashes, mais cela aura du sens; They will be poussière, encore plus de poussière en amour.

Last love beyond death. The last one can close my eyes Shadow that will take me away on the white day, and will be able to unleash this soul of mine Hour, to his anxious eagerness flattery; But not from that other part on the shore She will leave the memory, where she burned: Swimming knows my flame the cold water, and lose respect for severe law.. Soul, to whom a God has been a prison, Veins, what humor they have given to so much fire, Marrows, which have gloriously burned, He will leave her body, not take care of her; They will be ashes, but it will make sense; Dust they will be, more dust in love.

A mystery burns in your eyes, elusive virgin and companion. I don't know if it's hate or love the undying light of your black ally. You will go with me as long as I cast shadow on my body and remain in my sandal. - Are you thirsty or water in my path? - Tell me, elusive virgin and companion.

A mystery burns in your eyes, elusive virgin and companion. I don't know if the fire is hate or love inexhaustible of your black ally. You will go with me as long as I cast a shadow my body and left my sandal sandal. -Are you thirsty or water in my path? - Tell me, elusive virgin and companion.

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.

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 brown... love me day, love me night... and dawn in the open window! ... if you love me, don't cut me off: love me all... or don't love me.

If you love me, love me whole, not by 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. And early morning at the open window! ... if you love me, don't cut me off. Or don't you love me.

If you love me, love me all over, not in the dark or the light. If you love me, love me black and white, and gray, green and blond, and brown... And early morning at the open window! If you love me, don't cut me off the word, love me all. Or you don't love me.

For your green eyes I would lose myself, siren of those whom Ulysses, clever, loved and feared. For your green eyes I would be lost. For your green eyes, which, fleeting, sometimes glow with melancholy, for your green eyes, as full of peace, as mysterious as my hope, for your green eyes, effective spell, I would save myself..

For your green eyes I miss you, siren of those whom Ulysses, sagace, loved and feared. For your green eyes, I miss it. For your green eyes in what, ephemeres, Parfois, la mélancolie brille généralement; for your green eyes so full of peace, mystérieux comme mon espoir; for your green eyes, sort efficace, I would save myself.

For your green eyes I miss it, siren of those that Ulysses, sagacious, he loved and feared. For your green eyes I miss it. For your green eyes in what, fleeting, Sometimes melancholy usually shines; for your green eyes so full of peace, mysterious like my hope; for your green eyes, effective spell, I would save myself..

Sometimes I feel like being corny to say, "I love you madly". Sometimes I feel like being a fool to scream, "I love her so much!" Sometimes I wish I was a kid to cry curled up in her bosom. Sometimes I want to be dead to feel, under the damp soil of my juices, that a flower grows breaking my chest, a flower, and say:.

Sometimes I feel like being corny to say: I love you madly. Sometimes I feel like being stupid to shout: I love her so much! Sometimes I feel like being a child to cry curled up in his bosom. Sometimes I feel like I'm dead to feel, under the wet earth of my juices, that a flower grows breaking my chest, a flower, and say:.

Sometimes I feel like I'm saying, "I love you madly". Sometimes I feel like I'm stupid, crying, "I love him so much!" Sometimes I have the impression of being a child crying in my own skin. Sometimes I feel like I'm dead, under the wet soil of my juice, that a flower pushes me to break my breast, a flower, and says:.

I offer thee among the bouquets, green gazes and roses, My naive heart that to thy goodness humbles; Let not thy loving hands tear it to pieces, Thy eyes rejoice in my simple gift. In the shady garden my weary body morning auras covered with dew; as in the peace of a dream it slips beside you The fugitive instant that lust rest.

Je vous propose parmi les grappes, les segments verts et les roses, Mon cœur naïf qui s'humilie devant ta bonté; Thy loving hands do not want to destroy him, Thy eyes rejoice at my simple gift. In the shadow of the garden my body is tired, the auras of the morning covered with rose;.

I offer you among clusters, green segments and roses, My naive heart that humbles itself to your goodness; Your loving hands do not want to destroy it, Your eyes rejoice in my simple gift. In the shady garden my tired body the morning auras covered with dew as in the peace of a dream I slip by your side the fugitive moment that I long for to rest.

To love is this timid silence near you, without you knowing it, and to remember your voice when you leave and feel the warmth of your greeting. To love is to wait for you as if you were part of the sunset, neither before nor after, so that we are alone among the games and tales of the dry land..

Loving is this timid silence close to you, without you knowing, and remembering your voice when you leave and feeling the warmth of your greeting. To love is to wait for you as if you were part of the sunset, neither before nor after, so that we are alone between games and stories on the dry land..

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 shy, and I love you when you are silent. To love is to wait for you as if you were part of the couch of sun, 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 hearing from your mouth. I don't want to die with a perplexed soul knowing you're different, lost on other beaches. I don't want to die in this grief for the infinite arch of that sad dome where your dreams dwell in the midday sun..

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 beaches. 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..

I don't want to die without hearing from your mouth. I don't want to die with a perplexed soul knowing you are different, lost on other beaches. I don't want to die with this sadness through the infinite arch of that sad dome where your dreams live in the midday sun.

I want to cry because I loved you too much, I want to die because you gave me life, oh, my love, will I never have peace? I wonder if all I have is nostalgia. And I don't know what's gonna happen to me anymore, everything tells me that loving will be my end. What despair brings love, I who did not know what love was, now I know because I am not happy.

I want to cry because I loved you too much, I want to die because you gave me life, Oh, my love, will I never have peace? Will everything that is in me It just means nostalgia. And I don't even know what's gonna happen to me, everything tells me that loving will be my end. How desperate love brings, I didn't know what love was, now I know because I'm not happy.

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 paix? Because everything that is in me means just longing. And I don't even know what's going to happen to me, everything tells me that loving will be my end. I didn't know what love was, now I know because I'm not happy..

You've got me and I'm yours. As close to each other as the flesh on the 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, remote... And you would like the key to the mystery... If no one does... There is no key. Not me, I don't have it myself!

Tu m'as et je suis à toi. Si proches les uns des autres comme de la viande avec des os. Si proches les uns des autres et, souvent, si loin! ... Tu me dis parfois que tu me trouves fermé, Comme fait de pierre dure, comme enveloppé de secrets, impassible, distant. Et tu voudrais le tien la clé du mystère. Si personne ne l'a. Il n'y a pas de clé. Pas même moi, Je ne l'ai même pas moi-même!

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

The sun may be forever clouded, the sea may dry up in an instant, the axis of the earth may break like a fragile glass. It's all going to happen! Death may cover me with its mourning crest, but never in me can the flame of your love be quenched..

The sun may be clouded forever; The sea can dry up in an instant; The axis of the earth could break Like a weak glass. Everything will happen! May death cover me with your funeral crepe, but it can never go out in me, the flame of your love..

The sun can be obscured forever, the sea can dry up in an instant, the axis of the earth could break like a glass. Tout is coming! May the death cover me from your funeral crêpe, but it can never be extinguished in me..

I know a giant and strange hymn that announces in the night of the soul an dawn, and these pages are of that hymn cadenzas that the air dilates in the shadows. I would like to write to you, of the man taming the rebellious, petty language, with words that were at once sighs and laughter, colors and notes

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..

I know a giant and strange hymn that announces a dawn in the night of the soul, and these pages are from that hymn cadences that the air dilates in the shadows. I would like to write to you, about the man taming the rebellious, petty language, with words that were at the same time sighs and laughter, colors and notes.

Love of my bowels, living death, in vain I wait for your written word and I think, with the withering flower, that if I live without me I want to lose you. The air is immortal. The inert stone neither knows nor avoids the shadow. The inner heart doesn't need the icy honey the moon pours.

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.

Love of my reins, dead alive, I wait in vain your word written and I think, with the fleur that fades, that if I live without me, I want to lose you. The air is immortal. The stone is inert. He knows not man and avoids him not. The heart inside doesn't need the honey I've seen in the moon.

But I suffered you. I tore my veins, tiger and dove, over your waist in mourning bites and lilies. Fill my madness with words or let me live in my serene night of the soul forever dark.

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..

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

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. Corollary: love is an abyss of light and shadow, poetry and prose, and where you do the most expensive thing that is laugh and cry at the same time..

When you come to love, if you have not loved, you will know that in this world it is the greatest and deepest pain to be both happy and unhappy. Corollary: love is an abyss of light and shadow, poetry and prose, and where the most expensive thing is done which is laughing and crying at the same time.

When you've fallen in love, if you've never loved, you'll know it's the greatest and deepest pain 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 a depth of light and shadow, of poetry and prose, and where the most cherished thing is done, which laughs and weeps at the same time..

In the heart of the most secret mine, in the innermost fruit, in the vibration of the most discreet note, In the spiral and resonant snail, in the densest layer of paint, in the vein that in the body most probes us, In the word that says softest, in the root that lowest, the most hidden,

Au coeur de la mine la plus secrète, A l'intérieur du fruit le plus lointain, Dans la vibration of the note the most discreet, In the heart of the mine the most secrète, In the conque spiral and resonant, in the couch of paint the most dense, in the vein that we probe the more in the body, Dans le mot qui dit plus doux, Dans la racine qui descend plus bas, plus elle se cache. In the word that says more doux, in the root that descends more low, more she hides.,

In the heart of the most secret mine, Inside the most distant fruit, In the vibration of the most discreet note, In the spiral and resonant conch, in the densest layer of paint, in the vein that probes us the most in the body, In the word that says softer, In the root that goes lower, the more it hides,

Woman, I would have been your son, for drinking the milk of your breasts like a spring, for looking at you and feeling you by my side and having you in the golden laughter and crystal voice. For feeling you in my veins like God in the rivers and worshipping you in the sad bones of dust and lime, so that your being would pass without pain by my side

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 worshipping you in the sad bones of dust and lime, because your being will pass without pain next to me

Femme, j'aurais été ton fils, pour t'avoir bu le lait des seins comme une source, to look at you and feel you at my side and to have you dans le rire doré et la voix cristalline. To feel you in my veins like God in the rivers and I love you in the sad bones of dust and chaos, because your being passes without pain at my side.

This dreary mania for life this secret mood of living drags you along. Today you looked in the mirror and you were sad You were alone The light roared The air sang But your lover didn't come back You'll send messages You'll smile You'll shake your hands So your lover will come back So loved You hear the mad siren who stole him Oh no anguish laugh in the handkerchief cry out in laughter but close the doors of your face so they don't say later that woman you were you grumble the days blame you the nights your life hurts so so desperate, where are you going I'm just desperate, that's all!

This gloomy mania of living this hidden humor of living Alejandro is dragging you, don't deny it. Today you looked in the mirror and it was sad for you, you were alone the light roared the air sang but your loved one didn't return you will send messages you will smile you will shake your hands so it will come back your beloved so loved you hear the crazy siren that stole it the ship with foam beards ♪ Where the laughter died ♪ Do you remember the last hug ♪ Oh no worries laugh in the handkerchief cry out loud but close the doors of your face ♪ So they won't say later that that woman was you ♪ Desperate, nothing more!

This dark mania of living this humour hidden of living Alejandro brings you, don't you know. Aujourd'hui tu t'es regardé dans le miroir et c'était triste pour toi, tu étais seul la lumière rugissait, l'air chantait mais votre proche n'est pas revenu tu enverras des messages tu souriras tu te serreras la main pour que ça revienne ta bien-aimée tellement aimée tu entends la sirène folle qui l'a volé le bateau avec des barbes en mousse où le rire est mort tu te souviens du dernier câlin oh pas de soucis Rire dans le mouchoir crier à haute voix mais ferme les portes de ton visage pour qu'ils ne disent pas plus tard que cette femme était toi les jours te hantent ils te blâment pour les nuits ta vie fait tellement mal désespéré, où vas-tu? Désespéré, rien de plus!

Today I'm the wind. Be careful. Reinforce your windows with wood and with hard blows. With the wood draw the initial of my name. They say if you do you will throw into peace, away from trembling, the bearer of the name you draw with wooden supports your windows. They say there's no more effective spell than to confront the attacker with yourself.. They say it's effective, but it doesn't work.. I'll know how to find holes to reach your chest. And tomorrow I'll be water. Be careful. Because tomorrow, a dangerous thirst will probably be born inside you and it's summer..

Today, I must be the wind. Be careful.. Strengthen your windows with wood and hard blows.. With the wood, I'll draw the beginning of my name. They say that if you do you throw yourself towards the peace, far from trembling, the bearer of the name that you draw with the wood supporting your windows. They say there's no more effective spell than confronting the attacker himself.. They say it's effective, but it doesn't work.. I will find faults to reach your chest. And tomorrow it will be to my tour d'être de l'eau. Be careful.. For tomorrow it is very probable that a thirst dangerous is born in you and it is the summer.

Today I have to be the wind. Be careful.. Reinforce your windows with wood and firm knocks. With the wood draw the initial of my name. They say if you do it you will throw the bearer of the name that you draw with wood propping up your windows towards peace, far from trembling.. They say that there is no more effective spell than confronting the attacker with himself.. They say it's effective, but it doesn't work.. I will know how to find loopholes to reach your chest. And tomorrow it will be my turn to be water. Be careful.. Because tomorrow it is very likely that a dangerous thirst will be born within you and it is summer.