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Touche les feuilles la pluie de l'aube
comme les doigts son amour ...
The morning rain a quiet promise
of summer scents at noon ...
Twilight pours into the room,
soft rain on leaves outside,
a dawn for no tomorrows ...
When the soil's all soaked so the water seeps out:
such is real beauty ... never merely atop.
Elusive beauty, you inspire
searing lust, and burning pain,
a passionate life without respite ...
Back on soil which tells our lives,
I long for you to share: I feel
too weak to love you less.
Féminité féline et féroce,
les yeux en recherche de sa proie,
son corps une promesse au désir ...
The secret garden of my life,
where heart is light, the head still lighter,
and beauty reigns serene ...
The rolling hills of my youth -
a sight I return to behold,
refreshing my heart and my soul.
My fingertips on skin so soft
to make herself forgot,
but then her scent will not.
The last of her pictures gone up in flames,
the last of her memories but in my mind now
autumn's the balm to put my heart to rest.
Blue hour's close, the lights are dim,
the city heat a heavy weight
on hearts wide open to the night ...
To learn to love you sans desire,
to want you but without an urge,
to wait for you as if all time.
Friend without the lover.
Lover without the passion.
Passion without madness.
Madness without the rush.
Knowing the love of your life
with the love of their life -
whose life will you get on with?
Sunset's touch to velvet greens,
blue hour's kiss to silent waters,
nightfall's strangling my lonely soul ...
An eye lash clinging to your cheek
where tears have now run dry:
do not despair, my love, I'll seek
from you not farewells, just good-byes.
She casts a spell I'm loath escaping,
an aura I would yearn to keep
as close as skin, yet is so fleeting ...
Si jamais tu venais avant qu'aujourd'hui ne s'achève,
qu'aujourd'hui ne devienne hier ...
Fine amusement curls the corners of her lips,
the sentiment reaching to ignite a sparkle in her eyes:
she's seen it all in life, for sure ..
A slender limb splits through her shift,
arms stretched out in noble welcome; yet
eyes a dare to sweep her off and carry yonder
Listening to Gianmaria Testa (RIP) playing "Biancaluna" on "Solo dal vivo":
a heart flirting with darkness, a soul making love to the night.
Trajet ou trajectoire? Mystérieux les alentours,
perdu dès le début tout sens d'orientation.
Quel serait le prix, là au bout de l'arc-en-ciel?
In wintry nights the moon pours light as gently as a silk caress,
relieved then by the morning sun as hoary frost and dawn progress ...
First light seeping through the grove,
dawn patrol now nearly done:
purveyor of beauty, morning sun ...
Dusk had ceded, dawn still far,
a plaining swoosh across the grove:
night owl on the prowl ...
Beads of sweat are trickling down
the luscious valley of your breasts,
the rivulets meandering when idly you turn over ..
Strings of pearls are flowing down
the silken valley of your breasts,
swashing over mounds and tips when idly you turn over ...
A tug-of-war in my brain,
un bras-de-fer dans ma poitrine,
le silence pris d'assaut
by the hush of the dead.
A flame in distant, far'way land,
a mountain not for man to conquer;
an inner kingdom for the chosen,
the ear the eye to feel the scent.
Every day and every hour,
every time I take a breath,
I see you there and can't but wonder ...
Beautiful and simply clad,
standing on the edge of pier.
No boats in winter here:
what for she might the trolley had?
Back of beyond: impressive the familiarity, inevitability.
Would I want to be held to such place?
If your hands ever touched me
as now touches your voice
be sure to keep distance
to avoid being boiled ...
Jetzt war immer schon vorhin.
A passion without resistance,
a love that has no defense,
a yearning without hope for redemption ...
Pale blue light of weakened hours
projecting shadows soft on walls:
simple myths for timeless ages.
Enfolded in burgundy, crowned in curled red,
bejewelled in glitter and stockinged in black:
oozing her passion from toes up to neck.
A simple blue dress hugs her curves,
lacy black silk underneath stretched taut
by globes too plainly striking else
The melancholy of leaving,
the sorrow of good byes:
old friends I'd rather keep.
When beaut'ful things come to an end
we add the mem'ries to our heart and
'joice in looking for th' beyond ...
Translucent leaves of sated green,
the golden sun's so gen'rous gift.
Daughter of rain, bride to wind, sister of joy.
Her T all patched with perspiration, her body lithely underneath -
delicious food a poor distraction; her mom alike as if a twin.
A well-toned leg splits wide the shift -
it wraps around her like a mist;
her bottom straining amber silk.
Svel' a volte una corrente l'impressione d'un arco sensuale:
tortura deliziosa dell'abito femminile.
Aufzug hinauf, Treppen hinab, per Zug hindurch - der Mensch auf Trab...
Kupfer aus dem Dach der Kirchen,
Geländer aus dem Swimmingpool:
ist Mein und Dein, ist Unser so beliebig?
Ein Sonnenstrahl durch blinde Scheiben:
war man einst Gast, so wär' man heut' allein.
The summer heat checked at the door
I scour this place to make it mine ...
Flach über'm Land ein Zweig mäandert zwischen Halmen:
was mag das Gras dem Baum wohl sein?
So many different greens in spring, no end would just be fine.
A wall of mist bedecks the land:
I'm lost for words and stand in awe -
the fall drowns out all sound.
Seven layers lighter land -
the first one dark, then fading greys:
straight flush in someone's higher hand.
Twilight dusk and twilight dawn:
promises that spring from loss.
No slowing steps for merely trifles,
no holding breath for better days;
no wasting time in fruitless longing:
There is no better life but now.
He left a trace in all of us - we'll carry on the flame.
The passing is but one more journey:
to where since birth my path was set.
My thoughts are calm, my will is focussed -
the fading day it holds no fear.
Autumn colours sweep the land, the spoils of summer gone for good ...
Descending on the quiet town an eerie light of leaden grey.
Caressing all there is to see the evening light flows through the land.
Sun shooting sparkles through the wine, the glass her willing accomplice.
A sparkle, sharp on polished wood, ignites the thoughts as does the wine.
Drops of sparkling, droplets of still: her fingertips on mocking cruise ...
Slender hands in search of 'lace, a gentle stroke of beads.
Noble nape, rogue tufts of hair, the ginger wisps a prey to wind.
Her neck a source of rivulets: would I love to trickle along ...
Lustrous skin on swimmers limbs,
fine hair ashine in rim:
a sculptor couldn't wait.
Bedecked so simply, full of grace: where elegance is without price.
A subtle curve, a gentle swell - velvet sheen on regal bust.
Her riding hem releasing calves
as finely toned as if of bronze:
enchanting as a sight.
Incongruous pleats on such a queen -
of ages past, or ages pending;
she's wearing them as if no else.
Her crossing thighs, the nylons' brush:
how sensual sound, electric charge.
Her finest anklet, golden glint,
of no avail to calm my thoughts.
Precariously atop her toes
she's dangling slender heels:
how graceful just her feet ...
Keith'es pearls on Charlie's silk - sounds for saving tortured souls.
(R.I.P. Charlie Haden)
Le bleu s'ennui du jaune en vert. Que ferait-il sans lui?
Boulders strewn across the plain: the Earth was weeping stone.
Drifting leaves, a roaring fall: the longest flight not far away.
A milky froth in silky waves descends the valley 'cross the meadow ...
A narrow crack, a shaft of light: surrender by another dawn.
‘Tis not before the end of night
that fully we shall comprehend
which lingers there beyond of dawn ...
Softly as a morning mist silence wraps the land.
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