Láska je subjektivní, neboť to, co milujeme, nejsou skutečné bytosti, nýbrž bytosti, které jsme si sami vytvořili...


29. února 2008 v 21:35 |  Songy
[Our family abodes a travelling, went to distant lands,
A singing sweet with pipes and string and an open heart,
Just to wish their brothers a good life.]
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight.
Greensleeves same heart of gold
And who but my love, Greensleeves.
[In Dante's land, or there they'd marbled strong
To see this Celtic bloods sincerity.
I look, you smile, even a tiny gift
And turn their backs, low courteously.]
[When come to the city of a waltz, they said.
There they'll love you cautiously.
But in truth they'll be given no time
And even scares by the city of music,
He's gone or go.]
[So they dances the way, no scud and faint
To Schiller's sweet heaven and dearest walk
And at last they were watched with wandering love
And that lifted this family's silent heart.]

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