3 comments:
- JMiur said ...
- I like you calm as missing, and I hear from far away and my voice does not touch you. It seems that your eyes had flown away and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
- December 15, 2008 10:00
- JMiur said ...
- As all things are filled with my spirit of things, filled my soul. Butterfly dreams, you my soul, and I like the word melancholy.
- December 15, 2008 10:00
- Gem @ said ...
- I can write the saddest lines tonight. Write, for example: "The night is shattered and shiver, blue stars in the distance." The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest lines tonight .. Do not know you like Pablo Neruda:)
- JMiur said ...
- Somewhere in la Mancha, whose name I remember, not long ago there lived a knight of the lance and ancient shield, a lean hack and a greyhound. An olla of rather more beef than lamb, hash most nights, scraps on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, sometimes squab Sunday, with three quarters of his income. The rest della concluded broadcloth coat of velvet breeches and shoes for the holidays with slippers of the same, the weekdays were honored with vellori of the finest. He was in his house a housekeeper past forty, a niece not yet twenty, and a lad for the field and square, so saddle the hack as the billhook. Was nearing the age of our gentleman fifty years, was of tough, dry meat, lean-faced, very early riser and friend of the hunt. Mean that his surname was Quijada or Quesada (for here there is a difference in the authors referring to this case write), but by conjecture credible it is plain called Quijana, but this matters little to our story, just that the narrative does not point out the truth.
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