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O my critic, leave me to my loneliness. I swear by a love that will combine you with a most beautiful lover to leave me alone. Leave me to my dreams and patience till tomorrow. Tomorrow will judge me as it pleases. Your sermons scald me and take me to a place where life is dead and cold; as a desert in winter night. My heart is small. I want to deliver it from the darkness of my chest. I want to free it from it's deathly prison and rest it upon my shoulder, so the world must see it's deep buried secrets. Leave me my critic and do not advise me, because the calamities have opened my eyes. The tears have expanded my sight and the sadness has taught me the language of the heart. Leave me my critic to my conscience. For I have in conscience, a court that will judge me on my mistakes. Spare me from the glory stories. I am not a God to be glorified. The love procession has marched on the land furnished with flowers, but why do I not see a place for myself in it!?
** between the town of the dead and the living **
yesterday i escaped the noise of the town , and walked to quiet Fields till i reached the height ground then i stood there watching the crowded city with it huge mansions and it high buildings . i sat there Contemplate people jobs and i found most of it Cumbersome . then i turned my eyes to the to the fields and i saw a Cemetery in the middle of it surrounded by the trees , there between the town of the dead and the living i sat thinking about life and death , love and hate , happiness and sadness , richness and poorness , while i am thinking Caught my eyes a huge crowd spearheaded by sad Music , Procession of luxury and grandeur , it was a funeral of a rich and powerful man , Priests gathered praying , people crying , poets reading poems of lament , Wreaths of flowers placed ,and in those moments i saw two men holding wooden coffin and behind them a woman wearing a worn clothes and a thin dog , the dog look at the lady once then to the coffin , they walking in sad steps , the wife crying , they put they coffin in a hole in the corner of the cemetery . then they disappeared behind the trees , then i wondered in my self where is the town of the poor people can be found
if the first look is the flora of love you implant in your life the first kiss is the blossom that appears in it . its the first true words that said
by the four lips . and its the promise that you make without words to be said , and it's the beginning of a ballad that ends with i love you
this is just an opinion of a man who never made this promise before .
si la primeramirada esla flora deamorimplantesen su vidael primer besoes laflorque apareceen ella.suslas primeraspalabras verdaderasque decíanpor los cuatrolabios.y es lapromesaqueusted hacesin palabrasque decir,y esel comienzo de unabalada quetermina conte amo esto essólo una opinióndeun hombre que nuncahizo esta promesaantes.
si lepremier coup d'oeilestla florede l'amourimplants dansvotre viele premier baiserest la fleurqui apparaîten elle.sespremiers motsvraisqueditpar les quatrelèvres.etsapromesseque vous faitessansmots pourle dire,etc'est le débutd'une balladequi se termine parje t'aime c'est juste uneopiniond'un hommequi n'a jamais faitcette promesseavant.