AUGUSTO SILVA ACEVEDO
Poeta veterano en MP
WOMEN OF APRIL.*
Without specific language, slowly*
as when the rain falls in the*
Symphony no soft tone, and voice*
of Leonardo Favio will pursue, as if it were you,*
April this lad, which uses roses*
and lips that never die in a universe*
bloody and blue, while I will give you free ringtones,*
my poems, dark red, soft, and*
rain in those months that remain*
in the minds drunk with a drink without end ...*
In June as in January, my piano broken*
as a broken heart, a corollary of a day*
without dawns, no window, without your kisses,*
women April rose in January, dreaming;*
lost, I see your lips to roses,*
give me your kisses slain for*
of oblivion, far, in this rainy month,*
that makes summer so do not panic,*
I always look like a violin blue*
the pledge that we break and then return ...*
AY AMOR!*As rivers hurt without your smile.*
This morning the lark no wine and flowers*
I sang, my guitar with this tunnel,*
dark, wounded, claimed.*Their cords are green,*
the sea as my father, who always calls you,*
when he see on the shore looking bumps,*
and seeing as the foam like you;*
kiss my feet and back, as if my skin*
had poison, or bitterness, as has*
bitter history.*Without language, slowly*
April love with my bitter loneliness,*
always take you where you can always fit*
the love that never dies or winter.*
Augus*
June 27, 2010.*1:18 p.m...
Without specific language, slowly*
as when the rain falls in the*
Symphony no soft tone, and voice*
of Leonardo Favio will pursue, as if it were you,*
April this lad, which uses roses*
and lips that never die in a universe*
bloody and blue, while I will give you free ringtones,*
my poems, dark red, soft, and*
rain in those months that remain*
in the minds drunk with a drink without end ...*
In June as in January, my piano broken*
as a broken heart, a corollary of a day*
without dawns, no window, without your kisses,*
women April rose in January, dreaming;*
lost, I see your lips to roses,*
give me your kisses slain for*
of oblivion, far, in this rainy month,*
that makes summer so do not panic,*
I always look like a violin blue*
the pledge that we break and then return ...*
AY AMOR!*As rivers hurt without your smile.*
This morning the lark no wine and flowers*
I sang, my guitar with this tunnel,*
dark, wounded, claimed.*Their cords are green,*
the sea as my father, who always calls you,*
when he see on the shore looking bumps,*
and seeing as the foam like you;*
kiss my feet and back, as if my skin*
had poison, or bitterness, as has*
bitter history.*Without language, slowly*
April love with my bitter loneliness,*
always take you where you can always fit*
the love that never dies or winter.*
Augus*
June 27, 2010.*1:18 p.m...
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