Silly Thoughts Part III
The choice was made
I lost again
There's a fire burning inside me just for you but you never cared for embracing it. There's a life that could have been saved if things had been different. But you are gone from me today. Now that I think about it, I never really had you. You always had me.
I'm sorry for these silly thoughts inside my head
but I just can't help asking why...
I don't mean to disturb the peace that you so deserve, but I guess there is no other way out for me. I've gotta leave now that the worst part hasn't come yet. I know you'll be happy. I know you'll learn to give yourself again without fearing and I know you'll be loved by someone that'll do you no harm. I know that someday I'll smile and cry saying that I saved you from all the misery of my arms and the tragedy of my kisses, by accepting this that hurts me a lot.
Be as happy as you can, so I can sleep in peace tonight, baby... I love you.
I lost again
There's a fire burning inside me just for you but you never cared for embracing it. There's a life that could have been saved if things had been different. But you are gone from me today. Now that I think about it, I never really had you. You always had me.
I'm sorry for these silly thoughts inside my head
but I just can't help asking why...
I don't mean to disturb the peace that you so deserve, but I guess there is no other way out for me. I've gotta leave now that the worst part hasn't come yet. I know you'll be happy. I know you'll learn to give yourself again without fearing and I know you'll be loved by someone that'll do you no harm. I know that someday I'll smile and cry saying that I saved you from all the misery of my arms and the tragedy of my kisses, by accepting this that hurts me a lot.
Be as happy as you can, so I can sleep in peace tonight, baby... I love you.
1 Comments:
¿Qué me importa que seas casta? Sé bella y triste.
Las lágrimas aumentan de tu faz el encanto.
Reverdece el paisaje de la fuente al quebranto;
la tormenta a las flores de frescura reviste.
Eres más la que amo si la melancolía
consterna tu mirada; si en lago de negrura
tu corazón naufraga; si el ayer su pavura
tiende sobre tus horas como nube sombría.
Eres la Bien-Amada si tu pupila vierte
-tibia como la sangre- su raudal; si aunque blanda
mi caricia te arrulle, lenta y ruda se agranda
tu angustia con el trémulo presagio de la muerte.
¡Oh voluptuosidaldes profundas y divinas!
¡Salmo de los deleites entonado en sollozos!
Tus ojos, como perlas, son fuegos misteriosos
con que las interiores penumbras iluminas.
Tu corazón es fragua; la pasión insepulta
como ascua inextinta, dispersa su destello;
y bajo la celeste blancura de tu cuello
un poco de satánica rebeldía se oculta.
Pero en tanto, Adorada, que no pueblen tus sueños
pesadillas sin término, reflejos avernales,
y en lívidas visiones de azufre mil puñales
tajen tu carne ebria de filtros y beleños,
y a todas las quimeras pávida esclavizada
el augurio funesto mires a cada paso,
y convulsa te acojas al letárgico abrazo
del tedio irresistible que anuncia la alborada.
Tú no podrás, -oh sierva que me impones tu ley
y a tu amor me encadenas perversa y temblorosa,
decirme desde el antro de la noche morbosa,
con el alma en un grito: Yo soy tú mismo, ¡oh Rey!
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE.
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