domingo, 21 de junho de 2015


Thine heart is but a frail display of a spring morning.
The Sun shines through the morrow, piercing the designs of malice
Brought by the night, a shadow that serves as warning,
Cast over the people of this fine land, from lord to novice.
Beauty is the sign of the coming of your smile,
Enlightening the day, expanding the rays of the sun.
Inviting is the breast decided to keep me a while,
Warm are the tights that my spirit has won.
Your silky white skin, so soft the touch,
One seems to be able to feel the clouds high in the sky.
But I do despair. Remains untouched the wild inside,
That residual feeling of falling, waking empty.
Fearing, grasping for something
Your vision hunts me, your heavenly figure besides me in bed
Makes me struggle out of my sheets, 
Run to the door, have it open and with a sigh acknowledge
That you've gone away again for the day.
Bring forth the wine, I want to feel spirited again,
Race through tavern, stumble on the rocks on the floor
On my way back home, ignoring the whores on the street,
Those bosoms that jump and wiggle like their fake smiles.
Through the darkness I see your figure
Through those dark alleys I follow you
Only to see under the light of the streetlight
That you're holding another men with a ring on your left hand
And a smile on your face.
Of this life I can face no further
For I can't have you then life will have me no longer.

Sem comentários: