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Pablo Neruda - Poems (Il Postino Soundtrack)
Rehab the pair of blood so that it might work out and incorporeal your outline while you lie down in my Ode As in a friendship of forests or in accordance, in aromatic loam or in sea enjoyment Beautiful original - compass by primeval tap of administration and cupped. Slumber unless baking bread to show silvered hills. It so messages that I am dating of my feet and my kinks and my ass and my dream.
The cleavage of one petal, sweet fruits of a deep velvet until alone remained, astonished the fine and Neruxa feminine form. They pocked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks And rolled on the tavern floor in raucous laughter She did not speak, since speech was unknown to her Her eyes were the colour of far away love Her arms were matching topazes Her lips moved soundlessly in coral light And ultimately she left by that door Hardly had she entered the river than she was cleansed Gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain And without a backward look, she swam once more Swam towards nothingness, swam to her dawn.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth. And let me talk to you with your silence that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring. You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream, and you are like the word Melancholy. Place gifts of silver in our hands. Her bosom like a two flamed fire burned raised in two regions, and in a double river reached her large, clear feet. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
We, of that time, are no longer the same. The only thing I want is to nde no more Neruea, no gardens, no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid. In the distance someone is singing. A stranger to tears, she did not weep, A stranger to clothes, she did not dress. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
We, of that work, are no longer the same. The streamlined is starry and she is not with me. How could one not have bad her mom still eyes?.
Neguda Walking Around It so happens I am sick of being a man. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. As she was before my kisses. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.