Concerto for flute and harp,
and in grunting piggy
he recognized a G sharp;
the Music is catchy
because of him, and superb
is loveliness in his
raspy idea. I would've loved
to have had a Cordial with
Amadeus, without gloved
hands, shaking the Sonic
Space. But I shall content my self
with an observating listenig
to Symphony # 12.
The priest
who didn't
say Mass
fleed the Altair
and wrote
The lowest Bass
Under the Cross
He found
the highest sounds
and so it was,
in those gapes,
his endless
seasonal escapes.
Ojos, como soles
a media noche,
cuando me miraban.
Ojos, como cascadas cristalinas
de agua Santa.
Ojos. Benditos Ojos,
que un día fueron
el Olimpo de mis alas.
Cicadas sing like crazy
the crickets accompany them,
the warm wind caresses fields and valleys
the heated skin is covered with drops of sweat
the strong light almost blinds the eyes
and the silence of the woods carries me
like an arcane magical feeling
i hear violins playing, wonderful notes
covering the forest and reaching the top
on the rocks and slopes of the mountains
i love the solitude and silence of nature
tightens my heart like a vice
a strong love that nobody can destroy.
Hot summer is here again
with a beautiful sunrise and gorgeous sunsets
colors of the rainbow at their best.
Le cicale cantano come impazzite
i grilli le accompagnano,
il vento caldo carezza prati e valli
la pelle accaldata è coperta di gocce di sudore
la luce forte quasi acceca gli occhi
e il silenzio dei boschi trasporta me
come un arcano magico sentimento
sento violini suonare, note meravigliose
che coprono il bosco e arrivano in alto
sulle rocce e i pendii dei monti
amo la solitudine e il silenzio della natura
stringe il mio cuore come in una morsa
un amore forte che nessuno può distruggere.
L'estate calda è di nuovo qui,
con albe e tramonti memorabili,
oltre i colori dell'arcobaleno, potenti, dominanti,
influenti e maestosi.
Your scent still around.
I thought I couldn't breath
without your smile next to me.
I tought my life would end
without your eyes looking at me,
that everything ended the day you walked away
but I realised life goes on even without you.
I will remember you
for a very long long time
but one you won't be in my mind.
Someone will replace you,
your voice, your scent, everything...
you're not my "forever".
You will be just a distant and hazy memory
between the pages of my life.
I dreamed of a life together till the end,
growing old side by side,
still loving each other like the day we met.
But maybe you're not
the fated one I was waiting for.
I will remember you
for a very long long time
but one you won't be in my mind.
Someone will replace you,
your voice, your scent, everything...
you're not my "forever".
You will be just a distant and hazy memory
between the pages of my life.
I'm not mad at you anymore,
this is how life goes,
this is how love works.
I was happy and now it's time to let go...
To let you go.
Someone will replace you,
your voice, your scent, everything...
you're not my "forever".
You will be just a distant and hazy memory
between the pages of my life.
Look at you
you're not like the others.
But being different
doesn't mean being a mistake.
People around you
will alway make you feel
like there's something wrong
with you.
Wake up, wake up! It's not like that.
Look at you
trying to be
something yoù re not.
But wearing a mask
it's useless
and won't make you a better person.
You don't need to be loved by everyone
'cause someday someone will love all your flaws.
You already know it.
Why do you let someone else decide if you're perfect?
Why? What do they know?
Why does someone have to decide if you're beautiful?
True beauty is within you.
You've already heard it
"What you have inside is what matters"
but you have to believe it
so that you will find the strenght and the courage
inside of you.
The reflection in the mirror
the weight on that scale
don't define who you are.
Even if you forget it,
deep inside of you,
you know who you are.
Take a bow
on his crecendo
when a stringed now
passes through a cello
The Art of fugue
find in me shelters
and a climbing Beauty
falls in to my senses.
I wish that there was no money's history
but more and more the History
is history of money
The Dust
should remember the origins,
the dust
should guide the future but
looking at Beethoven's picture
I understand I'm not ready
for Stravinskij
I can not listen to
soldier's tale
I wish there were no wars
to tell.
It's for the Salt
that the Tongue
has broken a Silence
on the Stones of Time.
I'm not changed,
I just woke up.
I'm tired of being ignored,
I'm tired of people taking for granted
that, whatever they do to me,
I'll always be good and silent.
I will be brave,
I will deal with them,
forgetting about the consequences.
I want to be considered not ignored,
I want them to give weight to my presence,
that they see me as a person
and not a doormat,
still and impassive,
to be exploited whenever they want.