Translated
Facundis dedit ille notis, interprete plumas
Insinuare sonos oculis, & pingere voces,
Et mentem chartis, oculis impertiit aurem.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Ad Quintium. Cat. Ep. 83
AD QUINTIUM. CAT. EP. 83.
Quinti, si tibi vis oculos debere Catullum,
Aut aliud si quid carius est oculis,
Eripere ei noli, multo quod carius illi
Est oculis, seu quid carius est oculis.
TO QUINTIUS.
Quintius, if you'l endear Catullus eyes,
Or what he dearer then his eyes doth prize,
Ravish not what is dearer then his eyes,
Or what he dearer then his eyes doth prize.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ausonius
AUSONIUS.
Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor,
Ignotamque oculis solicitare manu?
Aeris et venti sum filia, mater inanis
Indicii, vocemque sine mente gero.
Auribus in vestris habito penetrabilis echo;
Si mihi vis similem pingere, pinge sonos.
IN ENGLISH.
Vain painter, why dost strive my face to draw
With busy hands? a goddesse eyes nere saw.
Daughter of air and wind, I do rejoyce
In empty shouts; (without a mind) a voice.
Within your ears shrill echo I rebound,
And, if you'l paint me like, then paint a sound.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Las Voces Silenciosas
¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
Cuando la hora muda
y vestida de fúnebres crespones,
desfilar haga ante mis turbios ojos
sus fantasmas inciertos,
sus pálidas visiones...
¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
En la hora que aterra
no me llaméis hacia el pasado oscuro,
donde el camino de la vida cruza
los valles de la tierra.
¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
Llamadme hacia la altura
donde el camino de los astros corta
la gélida negrura;
hacia la playa donde el alma arriba,
llamadme entonces, voces silenciosas,
¡hacia arriba!... ¡hacia arriba!... ¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
Cuando la hora muda
y vestida de fúnebres crespones,
desfilar haga ante mis turbios ojos
sus fantasmas inciertos,
sus pálidas visiones...
¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
En la hora que aterra
no me llaméis hacia el pasado oscuro,
donde el camino de la vida cruza
los valles de la tierra.
¡Oh voces silenciosas de los muertos!
Llamadme hacia la altura
donde el camino de los astros corta
la gélida negrura;
hacia la playa donde el alma arriba,
llamadme entonces, voces silenciosas,
¡hacia arriba!... ¡hacia arriba!...
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Here To Conduct Business
Not a fluff do I flow,
With a willowness to interprete...
To be puffed into a whiff.
I'm here to conduct business.
Not provide safe images,
To allow a giggling...
You've been blinded by immaturity,
To validate a purpose...
As a life that exists.
If you misunderstood me,
To be something else...
That is your perception,
From a life you've been dealt.
I'm here to conduct business.
Not provide safe images.
Nor a fluff do I flow,
With a willowness to interprete...
To be puffed into a whiff.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Epigramma in Duos montes Amosclivum Et Bilboreum
Farfacio.
Cernis ut ingenti distinguant limite campum
Montis Amos clivi Bilboreique juga!
Ille stat indomitus turritis undisque saxis:
Cingit huic laetum Fraximus alta Caput.
Illi petra minax rigidis cervicibus horret:
Huic quatiunt viridis lenia colla jubas.
Fulcit Atlanteo Rupes ea vertice coelos:
Collis at hic humeros subjicit Herculeos.
Hic ceu carceribus visum sylvaque coercet:
Ille Oculos alter dum quasi meta trahit.
Ille Giganteum surgit ceu Pelion Ossa:
Hic agit ut Pindi culmine Nympha choros.
Erectus, praeceps, salebrosus, & arduus ille:
Aeclivis, placidus, mollis, amoenus hic est.
Dissimilis Domino coiit Natura sub uno;
Farfaciaque tremunt sub ditione pares.
Dumque triumphanti terras perlabitur Axe,
Praeteriens aequa stringit utrumque Rota.
Asper in adversos, facilis cedentibus idem;
Ut credas Montes extimulasse suos.
Hi sunt Alcidae Borealis nempe Columnae,
Quos medio scindit vallis opaca freto.
An potius longe sic prona cacumina nutant,
Parnassus cupiant esse Maria tuus.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Muerte De Antoñito El Camborio
Voces de muerte sonaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.
Voces antiguas que cercan
voz de clavel varonil.
Les clavó sobre las botas
mordiscos de jabalí.
En la lucha daba saltos
jabonados de delfín.
Baño con sangre enemiga
su corbata carmesí,
pero eran cuatro puñales
y tuvo que sucumbir.
Cuando las estrellas clavan
rejones al agua gris,
cuando los erales sueñan
verónicas de alhelí,
voces de muerte sonaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.
Antonio Torres Heredia,
Camborio de dura crin,
moreno de verde luna,
voz de clavel varonil:
¿quién te ha quitado la vida
cerca del Guadalquivir?
Mis cuatro primos Heredias
hijos de Benamejí.
Lo que en otros no envidiaban,
ya lo envidiaban en mí.
Zapatos color corinto,
medallones de marfil,
y este cutis amasado
con aceituna y jazmín.
¡Ay Antoñito el Camborio,
digno de una Emperatriz!
Acuérate de la Virgen
porque te vas a morir.
¡Ay Federico García,
llama a la Guardia Civil!
Ya mi talle se ha quebrado
como caña de maíz.
Tres golpes de sangre tuvo
y se murió de perfil.
Viva moneda que nunca
se volverá a repetir.
Un ángel marchoso pone
su cabeza en un cojín.
Otros de rubor cansado,
encendieron un candil.
Y cuando los cuatro primos
llegan a Benamejí,
voces de muerte cesaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.
poem by Federico García Lorca
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Divine Plans
we will never ever understand god
his plans are played out
day after day like a song
in the layout of buildings
in the nuances of nature
yet we are not able to interprete
the finer parts of them
they are shrouded as heaven's will
- the fowl that comes ever
closer as you sharpen
the knife for its neck
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Interpretations and Misinterpretations
there is definitely a God
he leads to a lot
of interpretations
and misinterpretations
depending on who you are
there is a God
he can lead you to war
or peace depending
on how you interprete him
there is a God
he can lead you to hell
or heaven depending on
how you follow him
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Martial, Lib. I, Epig. I.
'Hic est, quem legis, ille, quern requiris, Tota notus in orbe Martialis,' &c.
He unto whom thou art so partial,
Oh, reader is the well-known Martial,
The Epigrammatist: while living,
Give him the fame thou wouldst be giving;
So shall he hear, and feel, and know it--
Post obits rarely reach a poet.
Poem about Poetry - Poetic Lords
the poetic lord
sits in the brain
and waits to be
called upon to
to spread magic
with his words
to size up events
and interprete them
to his fancies without
having to kowtow
to society norms
and make beliefs,
indoctrinations
cups of poisons
that stymie and
hinder the flow
of poetic juices
meant to oil the
adagio to that
sublime and ecstatic
climax for ballerina of words
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ego Dominus Tuus
Hic. On the grey sand beside the shallow stream
Under your old wind-beaten tower, where still
A lamp burns on beside the open book
That Michael Robartes left, you walk in the moon,
And, though you have passed the best of life, still trace,
Enthralled by the unconquerable delusion,
Magical shapes.
Ille. By the help of an image
I call to my own opposite, summon all
That I have handled least, least looked upon.
Hic. And I would find myself and not an image.
Ille. That is our modern hope, and by its light
We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind
And lost the old nonchalance of the hand;
Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush,
We are but critics, or but half create,
Timid, entangled, empty and abashed,
Lacking the countenance of our friends.
Hic. And yet
The chief imagination of Christendom,
Dante Alighieri, so utterly found himself
That he has made that hollow face of his
More plain to the mind's eye than any face
But that of Christ.
Ille. And did he find himself
Or was the hunger that had made it hollow
A hunger for the apple on the bough
Most out of reach? and is that spectral image
The man that Lapo and that Guido knew?
I think he fashioned from his opposite
An image that might have been a stony face
Staring upon a Bedouin's horse-hair roof
From doored and windowed cliff, or half upturned
Among the coarse grass and the camel-dung.
He set his chisel to the hardest stone.
Being mocked by Guido for his lecherous life,
Derided and deriding, driven out
To climb that stair and eat that bitter bread,
He found the unpersuadable justice, he found
The most exalted lady loved by a man.
Hic. Yet surely there are men who have made their art
Out of no tragic war, lovers of life,
Impulsive men that look for happiness
And sing when t'hey have found it.
Ille. No, not sing,
For those that love the world serve it in action,
Grow rich, popular and full of influence,
And should they paint or write, still it is action:
The struggle of the fly in marmalade.
The rhetorician would deceive his neighbours,
The sentimentalist himself; while art
Is but a vision of reality.
What portion in the world can the artist have
Who has awakened from the common dream
But dissipation and despair?
Hic. And yet
No one denies to Keats love of the world;
Remember his deliberate happiness.
Ille. His art is happy, but who knows his mind?
I see a schoolboy when I think of him,
With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window,
For certainly he sank into his grave
His senses and his heart unsatisfied,
And made -- being poor, ailing and ignorant,
Shut out from all the luxury of the world,
The coarse-bred son of a livery-stable keeper --
Luxuriant song.
Hic. Why should you leave the lamp
Burning alone beside an open book,
And trace these characters upon the sands?
A style is found by sedentary toil
And by the imitation of great masters.
Zlle. Because I seek an image, n-ot a book.
Those men that in their writings are most wise,
Own nothing but their blind, stupefied hearts.
I call to the mysterious one who yet
Shall walk the wet sands by the edge of the stream
And look most like me, being indeed my double,
And prove of all imaginable things
The most unlike, being my anti-self,
And, standing by these characters, disclose
All that I seek; and whisper it as though
He were afraid the birds, who cry aloud
Their momentary cries before it is dawn,
Would carry it away to blasphemous men.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lusty May
O LUSTY May, with Flora queen!
The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen
Preluciand beams before the day:
By that Diana growis green
Through gladness of this lusty May.
Then Esperus, that is so bricht,
Til woful hairtis castis his light,
With bankis that bloomis on every brae;
And schouris are shed forth of their sicht
Through gladness of this lusty May.
Birdis on bewis of every birth,
Rejoicing notis makand their mirth
Richt plesantly upon the spray,
With flourishingis o'er field and firth
Through gladness of this lusty May.
All luvaris that are in care
To their ladies they do repair
In fresh morningis before the day,
And are in mirth ay mair and mair
Through gladness of this lusty May.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Forgive Me
No one dare interprete pigs squeal
No art can know the heart contents.
When I offend, you ask me
For there lies our friendship root
Try not to hold me in your heart
Call me and let me know.
Forgiveness is a good drug for amity
Forgiveness is a tonic that unites
It is the manure for flourishing.
We are bound to diasgree
Know that true friendship solidfies when we talk
Frank talk based on forgiveness may be bitter
But know that from bees that sting
Comes the sweet honey
Let us learn to forgive each other
For there lies the world peace
poem by Babatunde Aremu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lusty May
O LUSTY May, with Flora queen!
The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen
Preluciand beams before the day:
By that Diana growis green
Through gladness of this lusty May.
Then Esperus, that is so bricht,
Til woful hairtis castis his light,
With bankis that bloomis on every brae;
And schouris are shed forth of their sicht
Through gladness of this lusty May.
Birdis on bewis of every birth,
Rejoicing notis makand their mirth
Richt plesantly upon the spray,
With flourishingis o'er field and firth
Through gladness of this lusty May.
All luvaris that are in care
To their ladies they do repair
In fresh morningis before the day,
And are in mirth ay mair and mair
Through gladness of this lusty May.
In Legationem Domini Oliveri St. John Ad Provincias Foederatas
Ingeniosa Viris contingunt Nomina magnis,
Ut dubites Casu vel Ratione data.
Nam Sors, caeca licet, tamen est praesaga futuri;
Et sub fatidico Nomine vera premit.
Et Tu, cui soli voluit Respublica credi,
Foedera seu Belgis seu nova Bella feras;
Haud frustra cecidit tibi Compellatio fallax,
Ast scriptum ancipiti Nomine Munus erat;
Scilicet hoc Martis, sed Pacis Nuntius illo:
Clavibus his Jani ferrea Claustra regis.
Non opus Arcanos Chartis committere Sensus,
Et varia licitos condere Fraude Dolos.
Tu quoque si taceas tamen est Legatio Nomen.
Et velut in Scytale publica verba refert.
Vultis Oliverum, Batavi, Sanctumve Johannem?
Antiochus gyro non breviore stetit.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Habla El Corazn (Listen To Your Heart)
En realidad yo dudo tanto de ti,
por ms que intento no me dejo llevar.
Bebo tu amor y me siento fatal,
pero yo te quiero bien o mal
| Habla el corazn, que no sabe mentir
| Habla el corazn, a todas horas de ti
| Oigo cosas bonitas y presto atencin
| Habla el corazn y yo escucho su voz
A veces pienso que no hay nada que hacer
Que t y que yo tenemos poco que ver
Pero al final habla mi corazn,
dice que te quiero ... yelo
Repite I
Oigo las voces que hablan de ti
Yo no te quiero y ellas dicen que s
Soy obediente, s que tienen razn
Dejo que hable mi corazn
Repite I (2x)
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Letter To Doctor Ingelo, then With My Lord Whitlock, Ambassador From The Protector To The Queen Of Sweden
Quid facis Arctoi charissime transfuga coeli,
Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte cito?
Num satis Hybernum defendis pellibus Astrum,
Qui modo tam mollis nec bene firmus eras?
Quae Gentes Hominum, quae sit Natura Locorum,
Sint Homines, potius dic ibi sintre Loca?
Num gravis horrisono Polus obruit omnia lapsu,
Jungitur & praeceps Mundas utraque nive?
An melius canis horrescit Campus Aristis,
Amuius Agricolis & redit Orbe labor?
Incolit, ut fertur, saevam Gens mitior Oram,
Pace vigil, Bello strenua, justa Foro.
Quin ibi sunt Urbes, atque alta Palatia Regum,
Musarumque domus, & sua Templa Deo.
Nam regit Imperio populum Christina ferocem,
Et dare jura potest regia Virgo viris.
Utque trahit rigidum Magnes Aquilone Metallum,
Gandet eam Soboles ferrea sponte sequii.
Dic quantum liceat fallaci credere Famae,
Invida num taceat plura, sonet ve loquax.
At, si vera fides, Mundi melioris ab ortu,
Saecula Christinae nulla tulere parem.
Ipsa licet redeat (nostri decus orbis) Eliza,
Qualis nostra tamen quantaque Eliza fuit.
Vidimus Effigiem, mistasque Coloribus Umbras:
Sic quoque Sceptripotens, sic quoque visa Dea.
Augustam decorant (raro concordia) frontem
Majestas & Amor, Forma Pudorque simul.
Ingens Virgineo spirat Gustavus in ore:
Agnoscas animos, fulmineumque Patrem.
Nulla suo nituit tam lucida Stella sub Axe;
Non Ea quae meruit Crimine Nympha Polum.
Ah quoties pavidum demisit conscia Lumen,
Utque suae timuit Parrhasis Ora Deae!
Et, simulet falsa ni Pictor imagine Vultus,
Delia tam similis nec fuit ipsa sibi.
Ni quod inornati Triviae sint forte Capilli,
Sollicita sed buic distribuantur Acu.
Scilicet ut nemo est illa reverentior aequi;
Haud ipsas igitur fert sine Lege Comas.
Gloria sylvarum pariter communis utrique
Est, & perpetuae Virginitatis Honos.
Sic quoque Nympharum supereminet Agmina collo,
Fertque Choros Cynthi per Juga, per Nives.
Haud aliter pariles Ciliorum contrahit Arcus
Acribus ast Oculis tela subesse putes.
Luminibus dubites an straverit illa Sagittis
Quae foret exuviis ardua colla Feram.
Alcides humeros coopertus pelle Nemaea
Haud ita labentis sustulit Orbis Onus.
Heu quae Cervices subnectunt Pectora tales.
Frigidiora Gelu, candidiora Nive.
Caetera non licuit, sed vix ea tota, videre;
Nam chau fi rigido stant Adamante Sinus.
Seu chlamys Artifici nimium succurrerit auso,
Sicque imperfectum fugerit impar Opus:
Sive tribus spernat Victrix certare Deabus,
Et pretium formae nec spoliata ferat.
Junonis properans & clara Trophaea Minervae;
Mollia nam Veneris praemia nosse piget.
Hinc neque consuluit fugitivae prodiga Formae,
Nectimuit seris invigilasse Libris.
Insommem quoties Nymphae monuere sequaces
Decedet roseis heu color ille Genis.
Jamque vigil leni cessit Philomela sopori,
Omnibus & Sylvis conticuere Ferae.
Acrior illa tamen pergit, Curasque fatigat:
Tanti est doctorum volvere scripta Virum.
Et liciti quae sint moderamina discere Regni,
Quid fuerit, quid sit, noscere quicquid erit.
Sic quod in ingenuas Gothus peccaverit Artes
Vindicat, & studiis expiat Una suis.
Exemplum dociles imitantur nobile Gentes,
Et geminis Infans imbuit Ora sonis.
Transpositos Suecis credas migrasse Latinos,
Carmine Romuleo sic strepit omne Nemus.
Upsala nec priscis impar memoratur Athenis,
Aegidaque & Currus hic sua Pallas habet.
Illinc O quales liceat sperasse Liquores,
Quum Dea praesideat fontibus ipsa sacris!
Illic Lacte ruant illic & flumina Melle,
Fulvaque inauratam tingat Arena Salam.
Upsalides Musae nunc & majora conemus,
Quaeque mihi Famae non levis Aura tulit.
Creditur haud ulli Christus signasse suorum
Occultam gemina de meliore Notam.
Quemque tenet charo descriptum Nomine semper,
Non minus exculptum Pectore fida refert.
Sola haec virgineas depascit Flamma Medullas,
Et licito pergit solvere corda foco.
Tu quoque Sanctorum fastos Christina sacrabis,
Unica nec Virgo Volsiniensis erit.
Discite nunc Reges (Majestas proxima coelo)
Discite proh magnos hinc coluisse Deos.
Ah pudeat Tanitos puerilia fingere coepta,
Nugas nescio quas, & male quaerere Opes.
Acer Equo cunctos dum praeterit illa Britanno,
Et pecoris spolium nescit inerme sequi.
Ast Aquilam poscit Germano pellere Nido,
Deque Palatino Monte fugare Lupam.
Vos etiam latos in praedam jungite Campos,
Impiaque arctatis cingite Lustra Plagis.
Victor Oliverus nudum Caput exerit Armis,
Ducere sive sequi nobile laetus Iter.
Qualis jam Senior Solymae Godfredus ad Arces,
Spina cui canis floruit alba comis.
Et lappos Christina potest & solvere Finnos,
Ultima quos Boreae carcere Claustra premunt.
Aeoliis quales Venti fremuere sub antris,
Et tentant Montis corripuisse moras.
Hanc Dea si summa demiserit Arce procellam
Quam gravis Austriacis Hesperiisque cadat!
Omnia sed rediens olim narraveris Ipse;
Nec reditus spero tempora longa petit.
Non ibi lenta pigro stringuntur frigore Verba,
Solibus, & tandem Vere liquanda novo.
Sed radiis hyemem Regina potentior urit;
Haecque magis solvit, quam ligat illa Polum.
Dicitur & nostros moerens andisse Labores,
Fortis & ingenuam Gentis amasse Fidem.
Oblatae Batavam nec paci commodat Aurem;
Nec versat Danos insidiosa dolos.
Sed pia festinat mutatis Foedera rebus,
Et Libertatem quae dominatur amat.
Digna cui Salomon meritos retulisset honores,
Et Saba concretum Thure cremasset Iter.
Hanc tua, sed melius, celebraverit, Ingele, Musa;
Et labor est vestrae debitus ille Lyrae.
Nos sine te frustra Thamisis saliceta subimus,
Sparsaque per steriles Turba vagamur Agros.
Et male tentanti querulum respondet Avena:
Quin & Rogerio dissiluere fides.
Haec tamen absenti memores dictamus Amico,
Grataque speramus qualiacumque fore.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To A Gentleman That Only Upon The Sight Of The Author's Writing, Had Given A Character Of His Person And Judgment Of His Fortune. Illustrissimo Vero Domino Lanceloto Josepho De Maniban Grammatomantis
Quis posthac chartae committat sensa loquaci,
Si sua crediderit Fata subesse stylo?
Conscia si prodat Seribentis Litera sortem,
Quicquid & in vita plus latuisse velit?
Flexibus in calami tamen omnia sponte leguntur:
Quod non significant Verba, Figura notat.
Bellerophonteas signat sibi quisque Tabellas;
Ignaramque Manum Spiritus intus agit.
Nil praeter solitum sapiebat Epistola nostra,
Exemplumque meae Simplicitatis erat.
Fabula jucundos qualis delectat Amicos;
Urbe, lepore, novis, carmine tota scatens.
Hic tamen interpres quo non securior alter,
(Non res, non voces, non ego notus ei)
Rimatur fibras notularum cautus Aruspex,
Scriptur aeque inhians consulit exta meae.
Inde statim vitae casus, animique recessus
Explicat; (haud Genio plura liquere putem.)
Distribuit totum nostris eventibus orbem,
Et quo me rapiat cardine Sphaera docet.
Quae Sol oppositus, quae Mars adversa minetur,
Jupiter aut ubi me, Luna, Venusque juvent.
Ut trucis intentet mihi vulnera Cauda Draconis;
Vipereo levet ut vulnera more Caput.
Hinc mihi praeteriti rationes atque futuri
Elicit; Astrologus certior Astronomo.
Ut conjecturas nequeam discernere vero,
Historiae superet sed Genitura fidem.
Usque adeo caeli respondet pagina nostrae,
Astrorum & nexus syllaba scripta refert.
Scilicet & toti subsunt Oracula mundo,
Dummodo tot foliis una Sibylla foret.
Partum, Fortunae mater Natura, propinquum
Milie modis monstrat mille per indicia:
Ingentemque Uterum qui mole Puerpera solvat
Vivit at in praesens maxima pars hominum.
Ast Tu sorte tua gaude Celeberrime Vatum;
Scribe, sed haud superest qui tua fata legat.
Nostra tamen si fas praesagia jungere vestris,
Quo magis inspexti sydera spernis humum.
Et, nisi stellarum fueris divina propago,
Naupliada credam te Palamede satum.
Qui dedit ex aviun scriptoria signa volatu,
Sydereaque idem nobilis arte fuit.
Hinc utriusque tibi cognata scientia crevit,
Nec minus augurium Litera quam dat Avis.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Habla El Corazon
En realidad yo dudo tanto de ti,
Por ms que intento no me dejp llevar
Pruebo tu amor
Y me siento fatal,
Pero yo te quiero
Bien o mal.
Habla el corazn
Qua no sabe mentir
Habla el corazn
A todas horas de t.
Oigo cosas bonitas
Y presto atencin
Habla el corazn
Y yo escucho su voz.
A veces pienso
Qua no hay nada que hacer
Que tu y que yo tenemos poco que ver.
Pero al final
Habla el corazn
Dice qua te quiero
yelo...
Habla el corazn...
Oigo las voces
Que habiln de ti
Yo no te quiero
Y ellas dicen que si.
Soy obediente
S que tienen razn
Dejo que hable
Mi corazn.
Habla el corazn...
Habla el corazn...
Habla el corazn
Y yo escucho su voz.
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
You Can Not Force Anyone To Love You
Trust me...
That cute depiction of a baby in diapers,
Armed with a bow and arrow...
Is a visual metaphor,
To express one's love for another.
And...
That massacre that happened in Chicago,
Many years ago...
Was not a gangster's way,
Of showing devoted love.
That had something to do with the liquor wars.
Prohibition.
On Valentine's Day...
It is more popular to send cards,
Or buy candy to deliver with flowers.
I know you are 'idealistic'...
And want to interprete your love as true?
But the diaper wearing?
Machine gun? The candy and flowers?
AND a bow and arrow?
Comeon.
You can not force anyone to love you.
No matter how ridiculous.
Get a divorce.
Send a card.
Trust me.
That's more simple than paying court fees.
And requesting me to appear,
To give you a wholesome character reference.
Love does not mean having to say you're sorry.
'That's not original.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!