Резултати претраге

Rose

Thou art, divine and graceful
Majestic statue of love
Sculpted by God
And formed with ardor
From the soul of the most beautiful flower
Of most lively scent
That in life is preferred by the hummingbird
 
If God had been so merciful to me
Here in this ambiance of light
Formed in a beautiful and gorgeous canvas
Thine heart next to my spear
Nailed and crucified upon the rose-colored cross
Of thy panting chest
 
Thou art the ideal form
Magisterial statue, oh, perennial soul
Of my first love, sublime love
Thou art of God the sovereign flower
Thou art of God the creation
Which in every heart entombs love
 
The laughter, the faith, the pain
In fragrant sandalwood full of flavor
In voices anguished like a dream abloom
Thou art the milky star
Thou art mother of royalty
Thou art ultimately what possesses any beauty
In all refulgence of blessed nature
 
Pardon me, if I dare confess to thee
That I shall always love thee
Oh, flower, my chest does not resist
Oh, my God, how sad is
The uncertainty of a love
Which makes me suffer in waiting
To lead thee someday
To the foot of the altar
 
To swear, at the feet of the Omnipotent
In a moving prayer of pain
And receive the anointment of thy gratitude
After redeeming my desires
In clouds of kisses
I shall envelop thee to the point of my suffering
From all perishing
 

Bohemian

Bohemian, in the cabarets of the city
You seek happiness
In your own illusion
Bohemian, Bohemia resumes
In the wine, the love, the jealousy,
Perfume, disillusion.
Bohemian, oh sultan, why do you want
To love so many women,
If you only have one heart?
Bohemian, think about life for a moment
And see that inconstant love
Only brings in the end, loneliness.
Bohemian, you stay in the road, in nights of moonlight,
Sleepless and singing
In the illusion of vicious kisses
And sinful caresses,
Bohemian, you live dreaming of happiness
But you are unhappy
You live, bohemian, smiling and singing
But your laughter doesn't speak of your suffering.
 

Prejudice

I was born in a hot climate
You tell everyone
That I am too dark
Don't mistreat
Your little black boy
Who shows you so much affection
Who deep down is a good fellow1
 
It's too much
 
I was born in a hot climate
You tell everyone
That I am too dark
Don't mistreat
Your little black boy
Who shows you so much affection
Who deep down is a good fellow
 
You come from a mansion
I was born in a shed
A frog wooing the Moon
In a summer night
 
I will make a serenata
I will sing my pain
My samba will tell her
That hearts don't have color
 
I was born in a hot climate
You tell everyone
That I am too dark
Don't mistreat (no)
Your little black boy
Who shows you so much affection
Who deep down is a good fellow
 
Oh oh oh
You come from a mansion
I was born in a shed
A frog wooing the Moon
In a summer night
 
I will make a serenata
I will sing my pain
My samba will tell her
That hearts don't have color
 

• 1. with the connotation of boy