Oh, toi, plus moi, plus tous ceux qui le veulent, Plus lui, plus elle, et tous ceux qui sont seuls, Allez venez et entrez dans la danse, Allez venez, laissez faire l'insouciance. Oh toi, plus moi, plus tous ceux qui le veulent, Plus lui, plus elle et tous ceux qui sont seuls, Allez venez et entrez dans la danse, Allez venez c'est notre jour de chance. You're not alone into a world who causes pain, who learnt how to melt feelings, who learnt how to kill.
What if the lie snakes like the dust in the houses, when we meet we will lay on the same sheet. Wounds by loves, my delusions, bitter mornings from wrong loves and the day will come when we will meet up with the sun and say goodmorning.
The morning then will look like a celebration because we all look for love in this life. Count nights and useless caresses, when I find you darkness will be gone forever. I'm not alone cause I know that you are somewhere there, yes, break your chains and swear whatever pushes you.
I may haven't met you yet, but you will be, and all these things I'm looking for you will definitely have. Sometime we will meet up and everything will look like a celebration because we all look for love in this life.
Ahogan sus penas con una candela, ponte tu en su lugar El miedo que sus ojos reflejan, la mar se echo a llorar. Tanta injusticia me desespera, ponte tu en su lugar El miedo que sus ojos reflejan, la mar se echo a llorar. Historias del dia dia, historias de buena gente. Se juegan la vida cansaos, con hambre y un frio que pela. Ahogan sus penas con una candela,ponte tu en su lugar, El miedo que en sus ojos reflejan,la mar se echo a llorar.
Muchos no llegan, se unden sus sueno papeles mojaos, papeles sin dueno Muchos no llegan, se unden sus sueno papeles mojaos, papales sin dueno Fragiles recuerdos a la deriva degarran el alma, Cala to los huesos el agua los arrastra sin esperanza. La impotencia en su garganta con sabor a sal, Una bocanada de aire le da otra oportunidad. Tanta noticia me desespera, ponte tu en su lugar, El miedo que en sus ojos reflejan, la mar se echo a llorar.
Quote from: Christine on April 21, , am. Quote from: meltemi on April 21, , am. Quote from: Christine on April 27, , pm. To know we stray like a river and our faces vanish like water. To feel that waking is another dream that dreams of not dreaming and that the death we fear in our bones is the death that every night we call a dream.
To see in every day and year a symbol of all the days of man and his years, and convert the outrage of the years into a music, a sound, and a symbol. To see in death a dream, in the sunset a golden sadness--such is poetry, humble and immortal, poetry, returning, like dawn and the sunset. Sometimes at evening there's a face that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror, disclosing to each of us his face. They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders, wept with love on seeing Ithaca, humble and green. Art is that Ithaca, a green eternity, not wonders. Art is endless like a river flowing, passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same and yet another, like the river flowing.
Jorge Luis Borges. From a pot of wine among the flowers I drank alone. There was no one with me -- Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon To bring me my shadow and make us three.
Alas, the moon was unable to drink And my shadow tagged me vacantly; But still for a while I had these friends To cheer me through the end of spring I sang. The moon encouraged me. I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
As long as I knew, we were boon companions. And then I was drunk, and we lost one another. Shall goodwill ever be secure? I watch the long road of the River of Stars. The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. Quote from: Christine on May 18, , am. Sans toi, les emotions d' aujourd'hui ne seraient que la peau morte des sentiments d'autrefois Quote from: meltemi on June 29, , am.
Il chante sur une boule de gui Au milieu du soleil. J'y passerai ma vie. Et qui donc veut me prendre le coeur? Il dort, il dort, il dort.
Il raye de ses soupirs la nuit minuscule, invisible. Il n'a ni froid, ni chaud. Il n'est pas mort, il dort. Elle a toujours les yeux ouverts Et ne me laisse pas dormir. Quote from: Daphnekasgr on June 30, , pm. Quote from: Christine on June 29, , am. Her eyes are always open And will not let me sleep. Her dreams in broad daylight Make the suns evaporate Make me laugh, cry and laugh, Speak with nothing to say. Walt Whitman - O Captain! My Captain! O Captain! Quote from: Zarathoustra on August 08, , am.
Quote from: digitally cursed on July 19, , am. Quote from: Christine on September 23, , am. Quote from: Christine on September 23, , pm. Quote from: pandora on September 23, , pm. Song When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain; And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Christina Rossetti. Assent, and you are sane; Demur, - you 're straightway dangerous, And handled with a chain.
Emily Dickinson. Quote from: Zarathoustra on September 28, , pm. Emily Bronte. Quote from: bot on October 02, , pm. Adelina, de paseo La mar no tiene naranjas, ni Sevilla tiene amor. La mar no tiene naranjas. F G Lorca. Quote from: Christine on October 04, , pm. Quote from: amanas on October 06, , am. Quote from: RFA on October 08, , pm. Hit a softspot..
Mario Benedetti. We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us--if at all--not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
Quote from: Christine on January 19, , pm. Quote from: aliakmwn on January 19, , pm. Quote from: pandora on January 22, , am. Quote from: meltemi on January 22, , am. Quote from: Juventina on January 24, , pm. Quote from: Christine on December 17, , am. Quote from: Christine on April 13, , pm. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore? Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Quote from: Christine on January 31, , pm. Quote from: pandora on January 31, , pm. Quote from: vag on February 05, , am. Quote from: Zarathoustra on February 05, , pm.
If brass wakes up a bugle, it is not his fault. That is obvious to me : I witness the unfolding of my thought : I watch it, I listen to it : I make a stoke of the bow : the symphony makes movement into the depths, or comes in one leap upon the stage. If the old fools had not found only the false significance of the Ego, we should not now be having to sweep away these millions of skeletons which, since an infinite time, have been piling up the fruits of their one-eyed intellects, proclaiming themselves to be the authors!
The first study of a man who wants to be a poet is his self-knowledge, complete ; he looks for his own soul, he inspects it, he tests it, learns it. As soon as he knows it, he must cultivate it. That seems simple : in every mind a natural development takes place ; so many egoists proclaim themselves authors ; there are many others who attribute their intellectual progress to themselves! Imagine a man planting and cultivating warts on his face. I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer.
Imaginez un homme s'implantant et se cultivant des verrues sur le visage. Quote from: Christine on February 05, , pm. Artur Rimbaud. Quote from: aliakmwn on February 05, , pm. Quote from: Optima on February 06, , am. Quote from: pandora on February 07, , pm. Quote from: Christine on February 07, , pm. Ne me quitte pas Quote from: meltemi on February 10, , pm.
Anna, thy charms Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair, To hope may be forgiven; For sure 'twere impious to despair So much in sight of heaven. Tears, Idle Tears - Alfred Tennyson Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more! Quote from: aliakmwn on February 13, , pm. I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
This earth will grow cold one day. Quote from: pandora on February 20, , pm. Quote from: Christine on February 20, , pm.
Quote from: 4Dcube on February 20, , pm. Quote from: Turambar on February 20, , pm. Quote from: pandora on February 21, , am. Quote from: alejandro on February 22, , am. The Hollow Men T. Eliot Mistah Kurtz—he dead. Quote from: Turam Turam on May 01, , am. Quote from: SuperNova on May 10, , pm. Quote from: Kargas on May 17, , am.
Why, what could she have done being what she is? Was there another Troy for her to burn? Quote from: vag on May 25, , am. Quote from: 4Dcube on May 25, , am. You used to be the one, You piece of shit, it's not a lie, There's nothing else I could 've done, Than shout at you, "Fuck off and die" You swore to love me on a boat, we were united by fate, Now i want to slit your throat, And get myself a hoe to date.
Your skin pure white, Pat pat black eye, Like flowers under too bright light, I hope you wither, fuck off and die Quote from: Finrond on June 17, , am. Quote from: vag on June 23, , am. Quote from: vag on June 17, , pm. To follow the path: look to the master, follow the master, walk with the master, see through the master, become the master. Quote from: pandora on May 19, , pm.
Quote from: Christine on August 21, , pm. Sonet William Shakespeare let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. Poema 20 de Pablo Neruda Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche esta estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos".
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Que importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. La noche esta estrellada y ella no esta conmigo. Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles. Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuanto la quise. De otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
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