Amours de Voyage, Canto IV
Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander;
Weary, yet eager and sure, Where shall I come to my love?
Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me,
Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you?
Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit,
Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights?
Italy, farewell I bid thee! for whither she leads me, I follow.
Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go;
Weariness welcome, and labour, wherever it be, if at last it
Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love.
I. Claude to Eustace,--from Florence.
Gone from Florence; indeed! and that is truly provoking;--
Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan.
Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;--
I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the home they will go to.--
Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures,
Statues and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!--
No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan,
Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil!
II. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como.
There was a letter left; but the cameriere had lost it.
Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como,
And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Splügen,--
Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be
By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon
Possibly, or the St. Gothard,--or possibly, too, to Baveno,
Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered.
III. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have been up the Splügen, and on the Stelvio also:
Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and
This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to Porlezza;
There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano.
What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland,
Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom to find only asses?
There is a tide, at least, in the love affairs of mortals,
Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,--
Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar,
And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.--
Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing,
Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way!
IV. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.--
So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.
V. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have but one chance left,--and that is going to Florence.
But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,--
Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward.
Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow;
Somewhere amid those heights she haply calls me to seek her.
Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment!
Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her;
For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence,
Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers.
VI. Mary Trevellyn, from Lucerne, to Miss Roper, at Florence.
Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping,
Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you.
How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion?
As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano;
So by the Mount St. Gothard; we meant to go by Porlezza,
Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio,
Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered,
After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer.
So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection.
Well, he is not come, and now, I suppose, he will not come.
What will you think, meantime? and yet I must really confess it;--
What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry,
Went from Milan to Como, three days before we expected.
But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really
Ought not to be disappointed: and so I wrote three lines to
Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;--
If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to
Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the summer.
Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him?
Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you
Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have miscarried?
Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it.
There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea, that upswelling
High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between;
Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it;
Under Pilatus's hill low by the river it lies;
Italy, utter the word, and the olive and vine will allure not,--
Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the passage impede;
Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover,
Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste?
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
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Related quotes
Amours de Voyage, Canto V
There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno,
Under Fiesole's heights,--thither are we to return?
There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters,
Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,--
Parthenope, do they call thee?--the Siren, Neapolis, seated
Under Vesevus's hill,--are we receding to thee?--
Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;--or are we turn to
England, which may after all be for its children the best?
I. Mary Trevellyn, at Lucerne, to Miss Roper, at Florence.
So you are really free, and living in quiet at Florence;
That is delightful news; you travelled slowly and safely;
Mr. Claude got you out; took rooms at Florence before you;
Wrote from Milan to say so; had left directly for Milan,
Hoping to find us soon;--if he could, he would, you are certain.--
Dear Miss Roper, your letter has made me exceedingly happy.
You are quite sure, you say, he asked you about our intentions;
You had not heard as yet of Lucerne, but told him of Como.--
Well, perhaps he will come; however, I will not expect it.
Though you say you are sure,--if he can, he will, you are certain.
O my dear, many thanks from your ever affectionate Mary.
II. Claude to Eustace.
Florence.
Action will furnish belief,--but will that belief be the true one?
This is the point, you know. However, it doesn't much matter.
What one wants, I suppose, is to predetermine the action,
So as to make it entail, not a chance belief, but the true one.
Out of the question, you say; if a thing isn't wrong we may do it.
Ah! but this wrong, you see--but I do not know that it matters.
Eustace, the Ropers are gone, and no one can tell me about them.
Pisa.
Pisa, they say they think, and so I follow to Pisa,
Hither and thither inquiring. I weary of making inquiries.
I am ashamed, I declare, of asking people about it.--
Who are your friends? You said you had friends who would certainly know them.
Florence.
But it is idle, moping, and thinking, and trying to fix her
Image once more and more in, to write the whole perfect inscription
Over and over again upon every page of remembrance.
I have settled to stay at Florence to wait for your answer.
Who are your friends? Write quickly and tell me. I wait for your answer.
III. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper.--at Lucca Baths.
You are at Lucca baths, you tell me, to stay for the summer;
Florence was quite too hot; you can't move further at present.
Will you not come, do you think, before the summer is over?
Mr. C. got you out with very considerable trouble;
And he was useful and kind, and seemed so happy to serve you.
Didn't stay with you long, but talked very openly to you;
Made you almost his confessor, without appearing to know it,--
What about?--and you say you didn't need his confessions.
O my dear Miss Roper, I dare not trust what you tell me!
Will he come, do you think? I am really so sorry for him.
They didn't give him my letter at Milan, I feel pretty certain.
You had told him Bellaggio. We didn't go to Bellaggio;
So he would miss our track, and perhaps never come to Lugano,
Where we were written in full, To Lucerne across the St. Gothard.
But he could write to you;--you would tell him where you were going.
IV. Claude to Eustace.
Let me, then, bear to forget her. I will not cling to her falsely:
Nothing factitious or forced shall impair the old happy relation.
I will let myself go, forget, not try to remember;
I will walk on my way, accept the chances that meet me,
Freely encounter the world, imbibe these alien airs, and
Never ask if new feelings and thoughts are of her or of others.
Is she not changing herself?--the old image would only delude me.
I will be bold, too, and change,--if it must be. Yet if in all things,
Yet if I do but aspire evermore to the Absolute only,
I shall be doing, I think, somehow, what she will be doing;--
I shall be thine, O my child, some way, though I know not in what way,
Let me submit to forget her; I must; I already forget her.
V. Claude to Eustace.
Utterly vain is, alas! this attempt at the Absolute,--wholly!
I, who believed not in her, because I would fain believe nothing,
Have to believe as I may, with a wilful, unmeaning acceptance.
I, who refused to enfasten the roots of my floating existence
In the rich earth, cling now to the hard, naked rock that is left me,--
Ah! she was worthy, Eustace,--and that, indeed, is my comfort,--
Worthy a nobler heart than a fool such as I could have given her.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
Yes, it relieves me to write, though I do not send, and the chance that
Takes may destroy my fragments. But as men pray, without asking
Whether One really exist to hear or do anything for them,--
Simply impelled by the need of the moment to turn to a Being
In a conception of whom there is freedom from all limitation,--
So in your image I turn to an ens rationis of friendship,
Even so write in your name I know not to whom nor in what wise.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
There was a time, methought it was but lately departed,
When, if a thing was denied me, I felt I was bound to attempt it;
Choice alone should take, and choice alone should surrender.
There was a time, indeed, when I had not retired thus early,
Languidly thus, from pursuit of a purpose I once had adopted,
But it is all over, all that! I have slunk from the perilous field in
Whose wild struggle of forces the prizes of life are contested.
It is over, all that! I am a coward, and know it.
Courage in me could be only factitious, unnatural, useless.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
Comfort has come to me here in the dreary streets of the city,
Comfort--how do you think?--with a barrel-organ to bring it.
Moping along the streets, and cursing my day as I wandered,
All of a sudden my ear met the sound of an English psalm-tune,
Comfort me it did, till indeed I was very near crying.
Ah, there is some great truth, partial, very likely, but needful,
Lodged, I am strangely sure, in the tones of the English psalm-tune.
Comfort it was at least; and I must take without question
Comfort, however it come, in the dreary streets of the city.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I shall behold thee again (is it so?) at a new visitation,
O ill genius thou! I shall at my life's dissolution
(When the pulses are weak, and the feeble light of the reason
Flickers, an unfed flame retiring slow from the socket),
Low on a sick-bed laid, hear one, as it were, at the doorway,
And, looking up, see thee standing by, looking emptily at me;
I shall entreat thee then, though now I dare to refuse thee,--
Pale and pitiful now, but terrible then to the dying.--
Well, I will see thee again, and while I can, will repel thee.
VI. Claude to Eustace.
Rome is fallen, I hear, the gallant Medici taken,
Noble Manara slain, and Garibaldi has lost il Moro;--
Rome is fallen; and fallen, or falling, heroical Venice.
I, meanwhile, for the loss of a single small chit of a girl, sit
Moping and mourning here,--for her, and myself much smaller.
Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle,
Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them?
Are they upborne from the field on the slumberous pinions of angels
Unto a far-off home, where the weary rest from their labour,
And the deep wounds are healed, and the bitter and burning moisture
Wiped from the generous eyes? or do they linger, unhappy,
Pining, and haunting the grave of their by-gone hope and endeavour?
All declamation, alas! though I talk, I care not for Rome nor
Italy; feebly and faintly, and but with the lips, can lament the
Wreck of the Lombard youth, and the victory of the oppressor.
Whither depart the brave?--God knows; I certainly do not.
VII. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper.
He has not come as yet; and now I must not expect it.
You have written, you say, to friends at Florence, to see him,
If he perhaps should return;--but that is surely unlikely.
Has he not written to you?--he did not know your direction.
Oh, how strange never once to have told him where you were going!
Yet if he only wrote to Florence, that would have reached you.
If what you say he said was true, why has he not done so?
Is he gone back to Rome, do you think, to his Vatican marbles?--
O my dear Miss Roper, forgive me! do not be angry!--
You have written to Florence;--your friends would certainly find him.
Might you not write to him ?--but yet it is so little likely!
I shall expect nothing more.--Ever yours, your affectionate Mary.
VIII. Claude to Eustace.
I cannot stay at Florence, not even to wait for a letter.
Galleries only oppress me. Remembrance of hope I had cherished
(Almost more than as hope, when I passed through Florence the first time)
Lies like a sword in my soul. I am more a coward than ever,
Chicken-hearted, past thought. The caffès and waiters distress me.
All is unkind, and, alas! I am ready for anyone's kindness.
Oh, I knew it of old, and knew it, I thought, to perfection,
If there is any one thing in the world to preclude all kindness
It is the need of it,--it is this sad, self-defeating dependence.
Why is this, Eustace? Myself, were I stronger, I think I could tell you.
But it is odd when it comes. So plumb I the deeps of depression,
Daily in deeper, and find no support, no will, no purpose.
All my old strengths are gone. And yet I shall have to do something.
Ah, the key of our life, that passes all wards, opens all locks,
Is not I will, but I must. I must,--I must,--and I do it.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
After all, do I know that I really cared so about her?
Do whatever I will, I cannot call up her image;
For when I close my eyes, I see, very likely, St. Peter's,
Or the Pantheon facade, or Michel Angelo's figures,
Or, at a wish, when I please, the Alban hills and the Forum,--
But that face, those eyes,--ah, no, never anything like them;
Only, try as I will, a sort of featureless outline,
And a pale blank orb, which no recollection will add to.
After all, perhaps there was something factitious about it;
I have had pain, it is true: I have wept; and so have the actors.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
At the last moment I have your letter, for which I was waiting;
I have taken my place, and see no good in inquiries.
Do nothing more, good Eustace, I pray you. It only will vex me.
Take no measures. Indeed, should we meet, I could not be certain;
All might be changed, you know. Or perhaps there was nothing to be changed.
It is a curious history, this; and yet I foresaw it;
I could have told it before. The Fates, it is clear, are against us;
For it is certain enough I met with the people you mention;
They were at Florence the day I returned there, and spoke to me even;
Stayed a week, saw me often; departed, and whither I know not.
Great is Fate, and is best. I believe in Providence partly.
What is ordained is right, and all that happens is ordered.
Ah, no, that isn't it. But yet I retain my conclusion.
I will go where I am led, and will not dictate to the chances.
Do nothing more, I beg. If you love me, forbear interfering.
IX. Claude to Eustace.
Shall we come out of it all, some day, as one does from a tunnel?
Will it be all at once, without our doing or asking,
We shall behold clear day, the trees and meadows about us,
And the faces of friends, and the eyes we loved looking at us?
Who knows? Who can say? It will not do to suppose it.
X. Claude to Eustace,-from Rome.
Rome will not suit me, Eustace; the priests and soldiers possess it;
Priests and soldiers:--and, ah! which is the worst, the priest or the soldier?
Politics, farewell, however! For what could I do? with inquiring,
Talking, collating the journals, go fever my brain about things o'er
Which I can have no control. No, happen whatever may happen,
Time, I suppose, will subsist; the earth will revolve on its axis;
People will travel; the stranger will wander as now in the city;
Rome will be here, and the Pope the custode of Vatican marbles.
I have no heart, however, for any marble or fresco;
I have essayed it in vain; 'tis in vain as yet to essay it:
But I may haply resume some day my studies in this kind;
Not as the Scripture says, is, I think, the fact. Ere our death-day,
Faith, I think, does pass, and Love; but Knowledge abideth.
Let us seek Knowledge;--the rest may come and go as it happens.
Knowledge is hard to seek, and harder yet to adhere to.
Knowledge is painful often; and yet when we know we are happy.
Seek it, and leave mere Faith and Love to come with the chances.
As for Hope,--to-morrow I hope to be starting for Naples.
Rome will not do, I see, for many very good reasons.
Eastward, then, I suppose, with the coming of winter, to Egypt.
XI. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper.
You have heard nothing; of course I know you can have heard nothing.
Ah, well, more than once I have broken my purpose, and sometimes,
Only too often, have looked for the little lake steamer to bring him.
But it is only fancy,--I do not really expect it.
Oh, and you see I know so exactly how he would take it:
Finding the chances prevail against meeting again, he would banish
Forthwith every thought of the poor little possible hope, which
I myself could not help, perhaps, thinking only too much of;
He would resign himself, and go. I see it exactly.
So I also submit, although in a different manner.
Can you not really come? We go very shortly to England.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
So go forth to the world, to the good report and the evil!
Go, little book! thy tale, is it not evil and good?
Go, and if strangers revile, pass quietly by without answer.
Go, and if curious friends ask of thy rearing and age,
Say, 'I am flitting about many years from brain unto brain of
Feeble and restless youths born to inglorious days:
But,' so finish the word, 'I was writ in a Roman chamber,
When from Janiculan heights thundered the cannon of France.'
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When my lover put the sea between us
When my lover put the sea between us
And went wandering in Italy
My poor silly heart miscalled his journey—
'Leaving me'.
Towns of Spain and Italy he stayed in,
Each and all of them to me unknown;
How could he find pleasure being a lover,
Being alone!
Truly I was not as fair as Venice,
Noble as Siena, strange as Rome.
Certainly he loved Milan and Florence
More than home.
I believed his absence had estranged us
And across the heart-dividing sea
Sent him word that I no longer loved him.
Foolish me!
Came his answer after months of waiting
Echoing my letter, lie for lie.
Truth or lies I know not. Which unfaithful,
He or I.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Como Decirte Adios
Como decirte adios
Cuando todo es normal
No me has dado ni un solo motivo
Como decirte que
Me ha llegado otro amor
Mas intenso y mas vivo que nuestro amor
Y me siento culpable
No mereces mas dolor.
No se como decirte adios
Como terminar la relacion
Sin da? ar tu ilusion
No lo se.
Cuando estoy junto a ti
Te lo quiero contar
Y me falta el valor y me callo
Te imagino llorar
Preguntando por que
Si, nos llamamos costumbre
Ya no hay deseo de amar
Solo de hablar
No se como decirte adios
Como terminar la relacion
Como decirtelo
Sin da? ar tu ilusion
No se como decirte adios
Como acabar esta cancion
Sin un final feliz
Para tu corazon
No lo se.
song performed by by Ricky Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Straight To Hell (feat. Heather Nova)
Touch The Wind (Eres T)
Mocedades
Juan Carlos Caldern -- Mike Hawker
I woke up this morning and my mind fell away
and looking back sadly from tomorrow
as I heard an echo from the past softly say
come back, come back, won't you stay?
I wanted to reach you, let you know I still care
and lost in the silence of my sorrow
I put a promise in the wind, on the air, to fly away to you there
Touch the wind. Catch my love as it goes sailing
Touch the wind and I'll be close to you
I'll be easy to find
on the winds of the morning I'll come sailing
I'll be easy to find
and, baby, I'll be close to you
And only forever can I say I love you
and only forever have I lost you
but only a dreamer could wake up as I do and hope it's still yesterday
Touch the wind. Catch my love as it goes sailing
Touch the wind and I'll be close to you
I'll be easy to find
on the winds of the morning I'll come sailing
I'll be easy to find
and, baby, I'll be close to you
Touch the wind...
-----
Eres T (Spanish)
Words and music by Juan Carlos Caldern
Letra y msica de Juan Carlos Caldern
Como una promesa, eres t, eres t.
Como una maana de verano.
Como una sonrisa, eres t, eres t.
As, as, eres t.
Toda mi esperanza, eres t, eres t.
Como lluvia fresca en mis manos
como fuerte brisa, eres t, eres t.
As, as, eres t.
Eres t como el agua de mi fuente (algo as eres t)
Eres t el fuego de mi hogar
Eres t como el fuego de mi hoguera
Eres t el trigo de mi pan.
Como mi poema, eres t, eres t.
Como una guitarra en la noche,
todo mi horizonte eres t, eres t.
As, as, eres t. -ac
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corazon Espinado
Esa mujer me esta matando
Me a espinado el corazon
Por mas que trato de olvidarla
Mi alma no da razon
Mi corazon aplastado
Herido y abandonado
Aber aber tu sabes dime mi amor por favor
Que dolor nos quedo
Chorus
Ah ah ah corazon espinado
Ah ah ah como me duele el amor
Como duele como duele el corazon
Cuando nostiene entregados
Pero no olvides mujer que algun dia diras
Hay ya yay como me duele el amor
Como me duele el olvido
Como duele el corazon
Como me duele estar vivo
Sin tenerte aun lado amor
Corazon espinado
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soador
Aqul que cree que tiene el mundo en sus manos,
Que porque tiene mucho dinero
O porque tiene mucha belleza,
Est bien equivocado
Porque el fuego est en el sol
Y no el agua fra
Pinsalo, pinsalo y dmelo
Como sueas con ser inmortal
Cuando apenas naces
Y como sueas
Como sueas con ser eminente
Cuando no eres nadie
Y como sueas
Aqul que cree que es dueo de todas las vidas
Que porque tiene un arma en su mano
O porque guarda otra en su espalda
Esta bien equivocado
Que le falta la ambicin
Para calmar el ansia
Pinsalo, pinsalo y dmelo
Como sueas con ser inmortal
Cuando apenas naces
Y como sueas
Como sueas con ser eminente
Cuando no eres nadie
Y como sueas
Sueas...(Ay oye lo que va) Y como Sueas
Que te digo la verdad (Y como Sueas)
Aqul que cree que tiene el mundo(Y como sueas)
Es un iluso, es un iluso(Sueas)
Por que en la vida hay cosas del alma (Y como sueas)
Que no se pueden comprar con dinero (Y como sueas)
Que no se pueden comprar con bellezas ( Y como sueas)
Oye lo que va
Como sueas con ser inmortal
Cuando apenas naces
Y como Sueas
Como sueas con ser eminente
Cuando no eres nadie
Y como sueas
Y como Sueas
Ay oye lo que va (Y como Sueas)
Que te digo la verdad (Y como Sueas)
Aqul que cree que tiene el mundo (Y como Sueas)
Es un iluso, es un iluso (Y como Sueas)
Por que en la vida hay cosas del alma (Y como Sueas)
Que no se pueden comprar con dinero (Y como Sueas)
Que no se pueden comprar con bellezas(Y como Sueas)
Oye lo que va (Y como Sueas)
Como Sueas Con ser Inmortal
Cuando apenas naces
Y como Sueas...
song performed by by Juanes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Un Da Normal
Hoy es un da normal pero yo voy a hacerlo intenso
Hoy puede apagarse el sol pero no la luz de mi alma
En un da como hoy caminar ms despacio
En un da como hoy defender mi verdad
En un da como hoy te amarrar con mis brazos
En un da como hoy
Porque nunca sabes lo que tienes hasta que lo pierdes
Lamentablemente nunca vuelve
No importa en donde ests yo desde aqu te besar en mis sueos
Mi sangre arder por ti hasta que se pierda por tu cuerpo
En un da como hoy caminar ms despacio
En un da como hoy defender mi verdad
En un da como hoy te amarrar con mis brazos
En un da como hoy
Porque nunca sabes lo que tienes hasta que lo pierdes
Lamentablemente nunca vuelve(2x)
song performed by by Juanes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obtener Un Si
Ay, ay, como muero por ti
Como poder olvidarme
Basta que mandes flores
Para que me enamores
Para obtener un si
Ya tengo ojera de tanto mirarte
Y lo peor es que aun me quedan tantas ganas de...
Esperarte
Hasta que entiendas que
Te quiero porque eres claro
Como la planta de mis pies
Como el amor despus de hecho
Como tu voz y tu piel
Ay, ay, como muero por ti
Como poder olvidarme
Basta que mandes flores
Para que me enamores
Para obtener un si
Te quiero porque eres claro
Como la planta de mis pies
Como el amor despus de hecho
Como tu voz y tu piel
Ay, ay, como muero por ti
Como poder olvidarme
Basta que mandes flores
Para que me enamores
Para obtener un si
TO OBTAIN A "YES"
Oh, how i die for you
How can i make myself forget
All you need to do is send flowers
In order to make me fall in love with you
To obtain a yes
My eyes have dark circles from staring so long at you
And the worst part is that i still long to
Wait for you
Until you understand that
I love you because you are clearly defined
Like the soles of my feet
Like love after making it
Like your voice and your skin
Oh, how i die for you
How can i make myself forget
All you need to do is send flowers
In order to make me fall in love with you
To obtain a yes
I love you because you are clearly defined
Like the soles of my feet
Like love after making it
Like your voice and your skin
Oh, how i die for you
How can i make myself forget
All you need to do is send flowers
In order to make me fall in love with you
To obtain a yes
song performed by by Shakira
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quiero Ser Como Tu
Lo mucho que vivi
Te lo debo a ti
No s por qu.
Lo que yo senti, lo senti per ti.
No s por qu.
En mi vida tuve mil elecciones
Pero siempre quise ser como tu
Quiero ser como tu
Igual que tu, ni mejor ni peor
Igualita que tu.
Ouiero ser como tu
Igual que tu.
Necesito cruzar
Tu mar
Nadando hasta donde tu est s.
Todo lo que vi, lo aprend de t.
No s por qu.
Lo que puedo recordar
Me recuerda a t.
No s por qu.
En la vida tuve mil elecciones.
Pero siempre quise ser como tu
Quiero ser como tu
Igual que tu,
Ni mejor ni peor, igualita que tu.
Quiero ser como tu
Igual que tu.
Necesito cruzar
Tu mar
Nadando hasta donde tu est s
Quiero ser como tu
Igual que tu,
Ni mejor ni peor,
Igualita que tu.
Quiero ser como tu....
Como tu.
Ah... quiero ser como tu...
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amours de Voyage, Canto III
Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotunda,
Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the Vatican Walls,
Yet may we go, and recline, while a whole mighty world seems above us,
Gathered and fixed to all time into one roofing supreme;
Yet may we, thinking on these things, exclude what is meaner around us;
Yet, at the worst of the worst, books and a chamber remain;
Yet may we think, and forget, and possess our souls in resistance.--
Ah, but away from the stir, shouting, and gossip of war,
Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees immingle,
Where, amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind,
Where, under mulberry-branches, the diligent rivulet sparkles,
Or amid cotton and maize peasants their water-works ply,
Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still repeated,
Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky,--
Ah, that I were far away from the crowd and the streets of the city,
Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee!
I. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper,--on the way to Florence.
Why doesn't Mr. Claude come with us? you ask.--We don't know,
You should know better than we. He talked of the Vatican marbles;
But I can't wholly believe that this was the actual reason,--
He was so ready before, when we asked him to come and escort us.
Certainly he is odd, my dear Miss Roper. To change so
Suddenly, just for a whim, was not quite fair to the party,--
Not quite right. I declare, I really almost am offended:
I, his great friend, as you say, have doubtless a title to be so.
Not that I greatly regret it, for dear Georgina distinctly
Wishes for nothing so much as to show her adroitness. But, oh, my
Pen will not write any more;--let us say nothing further about it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, my dear Miss Roper, I certainly called him repulsive;
So I think him, but cannot be sure I have used the expression
Quite as your pupil should; yet he does most truly repel me.
Was it to you I made use of the word? or who was it told you?
Yes, repulsive; observe, it is but when he talks of ideas
That he is quite unaffected, and free, and expansive, and easy;
I could pronounce him simply a cold intellectual being.--
When does he make advances?--He thinks that women should woo him;
Yet, if a girl should do so, would be but alarmed and disgusted.
She that should love him must look for small love in return,--like the ivy
On the stone wall, must expect but a rigid and niggard support, and
E'en to get that must go searching all round with her humble embraces.
II. Claude to Eustace,--from Rome
. Tell me, my friend, do you think that the grain would sprout in the furrow,
Did it not truly accept as its summum and ultimum bonum
That mere common and may-be indifferent soil it is set in?
Would it have force to develop and open its young cotyledons,
Could it compare, and reflect, and examine one thing with another?
Would it endure to accomplish the round of its natural functions
Were it endowed with a sense of the general scheme of existence?
While from Marseilles in the steamer we voyage to Civita Vecchia,
Vexed in the squally seas as we lay by Capraja and Elba,
Standing, uplifted, alone on the heaving poop of the vessel,
Looking around on the waste of the rushing incurious billows,
'This is Nature,' I said: 'we are born as it were from her waters;
Over her billows that buffet and beat us, her offspring uncared-for,
Casting one single regard of a painful victorious knowledge,
Into her billows that buffet and beat us we sink and are swallowed.'
This was the sense in my soul, as I swayed with the poop of the steamer;
And as unthinking I sat in the hall of the famed Ariadne,
Lo, it looked at me there from the face of a Triton in marble.
It is the simpler thought, and I can believe it the truer.
Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages.
III. Claude to Eustace.
Farewell, Politics, utterly! What can I do? I cannot
Fight, you know; and to talk I am wholly ashamed. And although I
Gnash my teeth when I look in your French or your English papers,
What is the good of that? Will swearing, I wonder, mend matters?
Cursing and scolding repel the assailants? No, it is idle;
No, whatever befalls, I will hide, will ignore or forget it.
Let the tail shift for itself; I will bury my head. And what's the
Roman Republic to me, or I to the Roman Republic?
Why not fight?--In the first place, I haven't so much as a musket;
In the next, if I had, I shouldn't know how I should use it;
In the third, just at present I'm studying ancient marbles;
In the fourth, I consider I owe my life to my country;
In the fifth--I forget, but four good reasons are ample.
Meantime, pray let 'em fight, and be killed. I delight in devotion.
So that I 'list not, hurrah for the glorious army of martyrs!
Sanguis martyrum semen Ecclesiae; though it would seem this
Church is indeed of the purely Invisible, Kingdom-come kind:
Militant here on earth! Triumphant, of course, then, elsewhere!
Ah, good Heaven, but I would I were out far away from the pother!
IV. Claude to Eustace.
Not, as we read in the words of the olden-time inspiration,
Are there two several trees in the place we are set to abide in;
But on the apex most high of the Tree of Life in the Garden,
Budding, unfolding, and falling, decaying and flowering ever,
Flowering is set and decaying the transient blossom of Knowledge,--
Flowering alone, and decaying, the needless unfruitful blossom.
Or as the cypress-spires by the fair-flowing stream Hellespontine,
Which from the mythical tomb of the godlike Protesilaus
Rose sympathetic in grief to his love-lorn Laodamia,
Evermore growing, and when in their growth to the prospect attaining,
Over the low sea-banks, of the fatal Ilian city,
Withering still at the sight which still they upgrow to encounter.
Ah, but ye that extrude from the ocean your helpless faces,
Ye over stormy seas leading long and dreary processions,
Ye, too, brood of the wind, whose coming is whence we discern not,
Making your nest on the wave, and your bed on the crested billow,
Skimming rough waters, and crowding wet sands that the tide shall return to,
Cormorants, ducks, and gulls, fill ye my imagination!
Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages.
V. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper,--from Florence.
Dearest Miss Roper,--Alas! we are all at Florence quite safe, and
You, we hear, are shut up! indeed, it is sadly distressing!
We were most lucky, they say, to get off when we did from the troubles.
Now you are really besieged; they tell us it soon will be over;
Only I hope and trust without any fight in the city.
Do you see Mr. Claude?--I thought he might do something for you.
I am quite sure on occasion he really would wish to be useful.
What is he doing? I wonder;--still studying Vatican marbles?
Letters, I hope, pass through. We trust your brother is better.
VI. Claude to Eustace.
Juxtaposition, in fine; and what is juxtaposition?
Look you, we travel along in the railway-carriage or steamer,
And, pour passer le temps, till the tedious journey be ended,
Lay aside paper or book, to talk with the girl that is next one;
And, pour passer le temps, with the terminus all but in prospect,
Talk of eternal ties and marriages made in heaven.
Ah, did we really accept with a perfect heart the illusion!
Ah, did we really believe that the Present indeed is the Only!
Or through all transmutation, all shock and convulsion of passion,
Feel we could carry undimmed, unextinguished, the light of our knowledge!
But for his funeral train which the bridegroom sees in the distance,
Would he so joyfully, think you, fall in with the marriage procession?
But for that final discharge, would he dare to enlist in that service?
But for that certain release, ever sign to that perilous contract?
But for that exit secure, ever bend to that treacherous doorway?--
Ah, but the bride, meantime,--do you think she sees it as he does?
But for the steady fore-sense of a freer and larger existence,
Think you that man could consent to be circumscribed here into action?
But for assurance within a limitless ocean divine, o'er
Whose great tranquil depths unconscious the wind-tost surface
Breaks into ripples of trouble that come and change and endure not,--
But that in this, of a truth, we have our being, and know it,
Think you we men could submit to live and move as we do here?
Ah, but the women,--God bless them! they don't think at all about it.
Yet we must eat and drink, as you say. And as limited beings
Scarcely can hope to attain upon earth to an Actual Abstract,
Leaving to God contemplation, to His hands knowledge confiding,
Sure that in us if it perish, in Him it abideth and dies not,
Let us in His sight accomplish our petty particular doings,--
Yes, and contented sit down to the victual that He has provided.
Allah is great, no doubt, and Juxtaposition his prophet.
Ah, but the women, alas! they don't look at it that way.
Juxtaposition is great;--but, my friend, I fear me, the maiden
Hardly would thank or acknowledge the lover that sought to obtain her,
Not as the thing he would wish, but the thing he must even put up with,--
Hardly would tender her hand to the wooer that candidly told her
That she is but for a space, an ad-interim solace and pleasure,--
That in the end she shall yield to a perfect and absolute something,
Which I then for myself shall behold, and not another,--
Which amid fondest endearments, meantime I forget not, forsake not
Ah, ye feminine souls, so loving, and so exacting,
Since we cannot escape, must we even submit to deceive you?
Since, so cruel is truth, sincerity shocks and revolts you,
Will you have us your slaves to lie to you, flatter and--leave you?
VII. Claude to Eustace.
Juxtaposition is great,--but, you tell me, affinity greater.
Ah, my friend, there are many affinities, greater and lesser,
Stronger and weaker; and each, by the favour of juxtaposition,
Potent, efficient, in force,--for a time; but none, let me tell you,
Save by the law of the land and the ruinous force of the will, ah,
None, I fear me, at last quite sure to be final and perfect.
Lo, as I pace in the street, from the peasant-girl to the princess,
Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum puto,--
Vir sum, nihil faeminei,--and e'en to the uttermost circle,
All that is Nature's is I, and I all things that are Nature's.
Yes, as I walk, I behold, in a luminous, large intuition,
That I can be and become anything that I meet with or look at:
I am the ox in the dray, the ass with the garden-stuff panniers;
I am the dog in the doorway, the kitten that plays in the window,
On sunny slab of the ruin the furtive and fugitive lizard,
Swallow above me that twitters, and fly that is buzzing about me;
Yea, and detect, as I go, by a faint but a faithful assurance,
E'en from the stones of the street, as from rocks or trees of the forest,
Something of kindred, a common, though latent vitality, greets me;
And to escape from our strivings, mistakings, misgrowths, and perversions,
Fain could demand to return to that perfect and primitive silence,
Fain be enfolded and fixed, as of old, in their rigid embraces.
VIII. Claude to Eustace.
And as I walk on my way, I behold them consorting and coupling;
Faithful it seemeth, and fond, very fond, very probably faithful,
All as I go on my way, with a pleasure sincere and unmingled.
Life is beautiful, Eustace, entrancing, enchanting to look at;
As are the streets of a city we pace while the carriage is changing,
As a chamber filled-in with harmonious, exquisite pictures,
Even so beautiful Earth; and could we eliminate only
This vile hungering impulse, this demon within us of craving,
Life were beatitude, living a perfect divine satisfaction.
IX. Claude to Eustace.
Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters:
So let me offer a single and celibatarian phrase, a
Tribute to those whom perhaps you do not believe I can honour.
But, from the tumult escaping, 'tis pleasant, of drumming and shouting,
Hither, oblivious awhile, to withdraw, of the fact or the falsehood,
And amid placid regards and mildly courteous greetings
Yield to the calm and composure and gentle abstraction that reign o'er
Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters.
Terrible word, Obligation! You should not, Eustace, you should not,
No, you should not have used it. But, oh, great Heavens, I repel it!
Oh, I cancel, reject, disavow, and repudiate wholly
Every debt in this kind, disclaim every claim, and dishonour,
Yea, my own heart's own writing, my soul's own signature! Ah, no!
I will be free in this; you shall not, none shall, bind me.
No, my friend, if you wish to be told, it was this above all things,
This that charmed me, ah, yes, even this, that she held me to nothing.
No, I could talk as I pleased; come close; fasten ties, as I fancied;
Bind and engage myself deep;--and lo, on the following morning
It was all e'en as before, like losings in games played for nothing.
Yes, when I came, with mean fears in my soul, with a semi-performance
At the first step breaking down in its pitiful role of evasion,
When to shuffle I came, to compromise, not meet, engagements,
Lo, with her calm eyes there she met me and knew nothing of it,--
Stood unexpecting, unconscious. She spoke not of obligations,
Knew not of debt--ah, no, I believe you, for excellent reasons.
X. Claude to Eustace.
Hang this thinking, at last! what good is it? oh, and what evil!
Oh, what mischief and pain! like a clock in a sick man's chamber,
Ticking and ticking, and still through each covert of slumber pursuing.
What shall I do to thee, O thou Preserver of men? Have compassion;
Be favourable, and hear! Take from me this regal knowledge;
Let me, contented and mute, with the beasts of the fields, my brothers,
Tranquilly, happily lie,--and eat grass, like Nebuchadnezzar!
XI. Claude to Eustace.
Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio
Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence;
Tibur and Anio's tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever,
With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain,
Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:--
So not seeing I sang; so seeing and listening say I,
Here as I sit by the stream, as I gaze at the cell of the Sibyl,
Here with Albunea's home and the grove of Tiburnus beside me;*
Tivoli beautiful is, and musical, O Teverone,
Dashing from mountain to plain, thy parted impetuous waters,
Tivoli's waters and rocks; and fair unto Monte Gennaro
(Haunt, even yet, I must think, as I wander and gaze, of the shadows,
Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces).
Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations,
Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace:--
So not seeing I sang; so now--Nor seeing, nor hearing,
Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces,
Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro,
Seated on Anio's bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters,
But on Montorio's height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the
Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens,
Which, by the grace of the Tibur, proclaim themselves Rome of the Romans,--
But on Montorio's height, looking forth to the vapoury mountains,
Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,--
But on Montorio's height, with these weary soldiers by me,
Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist.
* -- domus Albuneae resonantis,
Et praeceps Anio, et Tibuni lucus, et uda
Mobilibus pomaria rivis
XII. Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper.
Dear Miss Roper,--It seems, George Vernon, before we left Rome, said
Something to Mr. Claude about what they call his attentions.
Susan, two nights ago, for the first time, heard this from Georgina.
It is so disagreeable and so annoying to think of!
If it could only be known, though we may never meet him again, that
It was all George's doing, and we were entirely unconscious,
It would extremely relieve--Your ever affectionate Mary.
P.S. (1)
Here is your letter arrived this moment, just as I wanted.
So you have seen him,--indeed, and guessed,--how dreadfully clever!
What did he really say? and what was your answer exactly?
Charming!--but wait for a moment, I haven't read through the letter.
P.S. (2)
Ah, my dearest Miss Roper, do just as you fancy about it.
If you think it sincerer to tell him I know of it, do so.
Though I should most extremely dislike it, I know I could manage.
It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for.
Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you.
Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter.
Only don't tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret,
That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it.
P.S. (3)
I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday.
Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage
Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter.
It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly
As if it had not occurred: and I do not think he would like it.
I must remember to add, that as soon as the wedding is over
We shall be off, I believe, in a hurry, and travel to Milan;
There to meet friends of Papa's, I am told, at the Croce di Malta
Then I cannot say whither, but not at present to England.
XIII. Claude to Eustace.
Yes, on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city,--
So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it.
So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding.
I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence.
Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon
Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together,
As to intentions forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded,
Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it happened, an offer
(No common favour) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection,
Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me.
How could I go? Great Heavens! to conduct a permitted flirtation
Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers!
Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries,
Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman,
Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal,
That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,--not, I think, by Georgina:
She, however, ere this,--and that is the best of the story,--
She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone--honey-mooning.
So--on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city.
Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of;
Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio's waters, nor deep en-
Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace;
Tibur I shall not see;--but something better I shall see.
Twice I have tried before, and failed in getting the horses;
Twice I have tried and failed: this time it shall not be a failure.
Therefore farewell, ye hills, and ye, ye envineyarded ruins!
Therefore farewell, ye walls, palaces, pillars, and domes!
Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic Albano,
Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's hills!
Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand, while, to ocean descending,
Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow broad sun,
Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once in the champaign,
Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts umbrageous and old,
E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy beautiful hollow,
Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi, inurned in the hill!--
Therefore farewell, ye plains, and ye hills, and the City Eternal!
Therefore farewell! We depart, but to behold you again!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Me Conoces
No me conoces
y hace tres noches que dormiste
entre mis brazos
ya no recuerdas las tantas cosas
que conmigo hiciste tu
como creerte si te morias cada vez
que me besabas
y hasta decias haber anhelado siempre
un hombre como yo
En ocasiones tape tu boca
para que no se escucharan
los fuertes gritos enloquecidos
que brotaban de tu ser
[Coro:]
Ahora te empenas
en ignorarme cuando te miro a los ojos
pones la cara como sintiendo enojos
como si yo fuera un extrano en tu vida
Si esa es tu forma
lamento mucho haber estado contigo
aunque confieso y
pongo a Dios como testigo
que estoy muriendo
song performed by by Marc Anthony from Desde Un Principio / From The Beginning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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El Juego
El Juego"
Quize emprender el viaje
aun sin rumbo fijo
andar sin equipaje
solo abre y abrigo
Es como volver a empezar
yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
entrar al juego pero no morir
yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
doblar las reglas y poder salir
Pienso a cada momento en ti como un recuerdo
atrapa mi sentidos,atravieza mi cuerpo!!.....
Yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
entrar al juego pero no morir
yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
doblar las reglas y poder salir
Yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
entrar al juego pero no morir
yo solo trato de seguir(es como volver a empezar)
doblar las reglas y poder salir
Es como volver a empezar!
Es como volver a empezar!
Es como volver a empezar!
song performed by by QBO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Como Yo Nadie Te Ha Amado.
Yo no vi las flores marchitar,
Ni ese fro en tus ojos al mirar,
No,no vi la realidad
Me ibas a dejar.
Dicen que la vida baby no es como la ves,
Para aprender hay que caer,
Para ganar hay que perder,
Lo di todo por t.
Llor y llor y jur que no iba a perderte,
Trat y trat de negar este amor tantas veces, baby
Si mis lgrimas fueron en vano,
Si al final yo te am demasiado,
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado.
Cada hora, una eternidad,
Cada amanecer, un comenzar;
Ilusiones nada ms,
Que fcil fue soar.
Tantas noches de intimidad
Parecan no acabar;
Nos dejamos desafiar
Y hoy nada es igual.
S que en verdad el amor al final siempre duele,
No lo pude salvar y hoy voy a pagarlo con creces, baby
Si mis lgrimas fueron en vano,
Si al final yo te am demasiado,
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado.
Esta vez la pasin ha ganado
Y por eso sigo esperando,
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado.
Llor y llor y jur que no iba a perderte,
Trat y trat de negar este amor tantas veces, baby
Si mis lgrimas fueron en vano,
Si al final yo te am demasiado,
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado.
Esta vez la pasin ha ganado
Y por eso sigo esperando,
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado.
Como yo, como yo nadie te ha amado... (x2)
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soneto XVII
No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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El Viaje Final (Death Poem)
Yo estaba muy
cerca de la muerte hoy,
en el camino a Cochabamba.
Las 'muchas' líneas de cruces tristes,
ninguna de ellas previsto para morir.
¿Cómo puede usted saber?
¿Cómo saber?
¿Cuándo?
Yo vivo cada día
como si fuera mi último.
Así que
cuándo
llegue
al final
del camino,
deseos incumplidos,
no me atormentarán
en la vida próxima, si hay una.
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Al Andar
Se dice que el ansioso
esconde un alma en paz,
viajero o misionero
va lejos mucho ms
Si miro hasta el cielo
o dentro mo, no s,
ya nada importa mucho
si peudo con sinceridad
saber que, lo intent
Como el mar y su creciente
va la gente al andar
como el viento y su corrida
va la vida al andar
como el sol a la maana
que reclama el andar
atesoro el momento
vivo y siento
es mi intento
y lo hago al andar
Viaj por tantos lados
en la imaginacin
estamos siempre andando
sin tiempo ni razn
quin sabe las respuestas
quin puede elegir
si existen diferencias
sabemos que hay, en cada ser
deseos de vivir
Como el mar y su creciente
va la gente al andar
como el viento y su corrida
va la vida al andar
como el sol a la maana
que reclama el andar
atesoro el momento
vivo y siento
es mi intento
y lo hago al andar
La brisa que acaricia
con suavidad el mar
y todas las gaviotas
que vuelan sin cesar
lo veo y lo siento
y no lo s explicar
esplndido momento
sentir llover
y el sol nacer
vivir y disfrutar
Como el mar y su creciente
va la gente al andar
como el viento y su corrida
va la vida al andar
como el sol a la maana
que reclama el andar
atesoro el momento
vivo y siento
es mi intento
y lo hago al andar
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Con Los Anos Que Me Quedan
S que an me queda una oportunidad
Que an no es tarde para recapacitar
S que nuestro amor es vedadero
Y con los aos que me quedan por vivir
Demostrar cuanto te quiero
Con los aos que me quedan
Yo vivr por darte amor
Barrando cada dolor
Con besos llenos de pasin
Como te am por vez primera
Con los aos que me quedan
Te har olvidar cualquier error
No quise herirte, mi amor
Sabes que eres mi adoracin
Y lo sers mi vida entera
No puedo imaginar vivir sin ti
No quiero recordar como te perd
Quizs fu inmadurez de mi parte
No te supe querer
Y te aseguro que los aon que me quedan
Los voy a dedicar a ti
Hacerte tan feliz
Que te enamores ms de mi
Yo te amar hasta que muera
Como comprobar que no soy quien fu
El tiempo te dir, si tienes f en m
Que como yo te am
Ms nadie
Te podr amar jams
Dime que no es el final
S que an me queda una oprtunidad
Que an no es tarde para recapacitar
S que nuestro amor es verdadero
Y con con los aos que me quedan por vivir
Demostrar, cuanto te quiero
(translation:
I know that I still have a chance
I know its not too late to make it up to you
I know our love is real
And with the years that I have left to live
I will show you, how much I love you
With the years I have left
I will live to give you love
Ill erase every hurt
With kisses filled with passion
Ill love you like it was the first time
With the years that I have left
Il make you forget any mistakes
I might have made
I never meant to hurt you, my love
You know how I adore you
And will my whole life long
I cant imagine living without you
I dont want to remember how I lost you
Maybe it was immaturity on my part
I didnt know how to love you
But believe me that the years that I have left
I will dedicate to you
Ill make you so happy
That youll fall deeper in love with me
I will love you until the day I die
How can I prove that Ive changed
Time will tell you if you have faith in me
That how Ive loved you
No one will love you
Please tell me this isnt the end
I know that I still have a chance
I know its not too late to make it up to you
I know our love is real
And with the years that I have left to live
I will show you, how much I love you )
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quireme
Quisiera saber si en tu corazn
Existe un amor sincero
A pesar que es as no puedo esperar
Que quieras como yo quiero
Cada vez que pienso en ti no puedo creer
Que un hombre como t me pueda querer
Me atrevo a pensar que tu corazn
Se encuentra decepcionado
Te quiero ensear la dicha que da
El amar y ser amado
Cada vez que pienso en ti no puedo creer
Que un hombre como t me pueda querer
Cada vez que pienso en ti no puedo creer
Que un hombre como t me pueda querer
Cada vez que pienso en ti no puedo creer
Que un hombre como t me pueda querer
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Con Lo Bien Que Te Ves (When You're Looking Like That - Single Remix)
Con lo bien que te ves (ves, ves, ves, ves)
Yeah, yeah
Ojos de tigresa que te tiran a matar
Una Diosa viviente duele saber que con otro esta
Mio fue su corazon
Como fue que la deje por otro amor?
Hasta perderla nunca supe su gran valor, yeah
Te falle y se que
Tu dolor me vas a cobrar
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Que tonto fui porque tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar
Dame otra oportunidad
Que no haria por besar tus labios?
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Vestida esta en glamour y en rock & roll
La quisiera abrazar
Besarla otra vez, hacerla perder el control
Aunque se que te perdi, espero
Que regreses junto a mi por siempre
Que ironia que te tuve y te perdi
Te falle y se que
Tu dolor me vas a cobrar
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Que tonto fui porque tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar
Dame otra oportunidad
Que no haria por besar tus labios?
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Que tonto fui porque tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar
Dame otra oportunidad (nooo...)
Que no haria por besar tus labios? (yeah)
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Donde sea que estes tu,
Es donde yo quiero estar
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves (ves, ves, ves, ves)
Como quieres que te olvide?
Tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar, (oh no babe)
No te puedo olvidar, amor
Que no haria por besar tus labios, (por besar tus labios)
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
Que tonto fui porque tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar
Dame otra oportunidad (ohhh...)
Que no haria por besar tus labios?
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Te tuve y te he perdido
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves, (con lo bien que te ves)
Que tonto fui porque tu fuiste mia y te deje escapar
Dame otra oportunidad (que no haria por besar tus labios?)
Que no haria por besar tus labios? (yeah)
Como es que te llegue a perder?
Con lo bien que te ves
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aint No Mountain High Enough
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
If you need me, call me. no matter where you are, no matter how far. just call my name. Ill be there in a hurry. on that you can depend and never worry.
(you see, my love is alive its like a seed that only needs the thought of you to grow. so if you feel the need for company, please, my darling, let it be me. I may not be able to express the de
F the love I feel for you, but a writer put it very nicely when he was away from the one he loved. he said down and wrote these words:)
No wind, (no wind) no rain, (no rain)
Nor winters cold
Can stop me, babe (oh, babe) baby (baby)
If youre my goal
No wind, no rain,
Can stop me, babe
If you wanna go
I know, I know you must follow the sun
Wherever it leads
But remember
If you should fall short of your desires
Remember life holds for you one guarantee
Youll always have me
And if you should miss my love
One of these old days
If you should ever miss the arms
That used to hold you so close, or the lips
That used to touch you so tenderly
Just remember what I told you
The day I set you free
Aint no mountain high enough
Aint no valley low enough (say it again)
Aint no river wild enough
To keep me from you
Aint no mountain high enough
Aint no valley low enough (say it again)
Aint no river wild enough
To keep me from you
Aint no mountain high enough
Nothing can keep me
To keep me from you
Aint no mountain high enough
Aint no valley low enough (one more time)
Aint no river wild enough (say it again)
To keep me from you
Aint no mountain high enough
Nothing can keep me
To keep me from you
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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