I ache for blacks and whites entire,
As the shadows cast on a skull;
Soon muddied are the purest waters,
The sharpest blade is first to dull.
Since you get less for the same price,
Some things should never be done twice.
I ache for blacks and whites entire,
As the shadows cast on a skull;
Soon muddied are the purest waters,
The sharpest blade is first to dull.
Since you get less for the same price,
Some things should never be done twice.
Yeux d'or, nuque rase et sourire de fortune,
Chez moi elle est venue sonner.
L'inconnue était belle mais m'était importune;
Je lui fermai la porte au nez.
J'ai dans ma tête un grand cahier, ou plutôt un livre d'images, mais je ne trouve jamais la page quand je tente de le feuilleter.
Quel que soit la temps que je passe parmi les visages familiers, les histoires chaque fois s'effacent ; je ne peux le lire que fermé.
She's not the Queen from the stories
She doesn't pace peaceful places
And the way that her foot arches
Is but the least of her worries
She met a judge that wore a ring
Together they sang lullabies
She felt the sting of the parting
And a few scales fell from her eyes
And though many willful children
Stomp the alley of her garden
Balkis listens to the singing
But nobody will call her wise
Till the feet of the butterflies
Sound to her louder than lightning.
Soyez les bienvenus sur ce petit blog sans ligne éditoriale fixe, qui échoue à mourir depuis 2005.
La fréquence de mise à jour se veut quotidienne au mieux (par ce que je suis de nature optimiste), trimestrielle au pire (parce que je suis
velléitaire bien plus encore).