It's been a while since I wanted give you the address of my other site .... Finally, the site of my precious dog ... Ramses, almost 12 years, large German Shepherd, full of love ...
course, one must approach this site with humor ... Rameses is seen as someone who expresses himself ...
And also, the address of my professional site ...
was all have something to say ... Sometimes what holds us back is the lack of mastery of language ... Just to straighten a few sentences, correct grammar and spelling ... and it becomes a wonderful storyteller .... I know that language is no longer as important to some people ... but being an avid reader, I can assure you it is very important in spite of everything there is to it !!!!!!!
BRIDGE TO RAVENS
Night and I am Fog,
And in the morning pale,
I discharge the inert body
From those I sometimes born ...
I am the wind of death,
And his foul odor spreads to my surroundings ...
No one is more human here,
The feelings are no longer here ...
I am the tears and the cold,
hunger, suffering and the law ...
times of happiness are completed,
The black uniforms for the extermination of his ...
I am the barren and infamous
Seeded by a fertilizer without a soul ...
The black ravens flew over me,
Here, no one has right to speak ...
I am a prisoner of this plain,
Where everything is subject to hatred,
I must bear the brunt of atrocities
And always work like a donkey ...
I'm screaming so much misunderstood,
So many different languages and bruised,
I forgot that there was a Paradise,
Where is God in this world cursed ...
I am Night and Fog,
And I go up in smoke in the dark sky ...
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| Memorial tribute deported to Ravensbrück camp cemetery Pere Lachaise Paris Division 97 http://www.galerie.roi-president.com/ |
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I loved in my childhood, imagining
What was hidden behind the window
that I could see my room ...
This window of the house opposite,
so I waited for him a genius,
A fairy or a prince ...
This window one day, opened,
And thou art appeared, you, the artist
That painted, window, houses
the village where I bury me ...
Then, the window has closed,
And I heard the crash of the artist
Who could never paint
The teenager who watched
Behind the curtains, which were so ashamed ...
I do not know why, but suddenly
I wanted to cross the road,
And I walked into the opposite house,
To locate and help all over again ...
I did not know that I shut myself
In a world of mirages golden ...
And since the house across the street, I look back
Towards a forgotten window, where, long ago,
A little girl watching the shadows,
And watched the hands of the artist ...
http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=371
as in a novel
Lost in the turmoil of revolution,
lovers lost and found,
And adventure novels lull our hearts
Desperate not to entertain such passions ...
We look for feelings lost, forgotten
In the mass of habits and regret ...
Sometimes when you cross a black look,
Imagine a fantastic story,
Where the risk and glory stir up love,
Where the heroes are always beautiful and rich ...
Then you shake the head, opens his eyes,
And it is an idiot or insane dreamer ...
We lost the sense of wonder,
We are no longer looking to be surprised ...
We fall asleep on our wild dreams,
But reality always wins the day ...
Can we stop please, sometimes loving,
And it was the age of memories and regrets ...
That's when you realize
That incredible adventure and love
were within our reach, so close,
But we never dared
Wear our steps in their direction, toward a different life .. .
And we die as we lived,
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