It is raining, walking along the road allowing drops to flow down my face, as your tears of when you wept knowing that I should go away from you. It is raining, but I do not mind the wet, because every drop for me is a caress from you wordless, flowing on the cheeks to give me relief and pleasure. It is raining, I open the umbrella to protect we both from the storm of the life.
It's the color of the Aurora Borealis, what I see in your eyes while I kiss you. It's the sound of waterfalls mountain, what I feel in me when I hold you. Your breasts are barcanes of the desert in motion, caressing your skin like marble. Your voice seems the sound of a Burmese Harp, wondering love. And I lose myself, in that your immense heat, that burns my senses but destroy the heart, because you're not here, to turn off together the flames of our passion.
Beloved shore of that river who silently listened our things good or bad, helping us to feel within us that stimulus to move forward knowing what awaited us. Beloved banks of the river whichnow hear my pains, letting me know that iflove it was, then love remains, just need to wait that day when it will repeat the same song on the same boat.
That stretch of the river, where the rake of the water never passed, and ducks nested, while we were hugging each other to look at them, I found it in the river next to the house, where in general the swans are to nest in. But this time I found only a lonely swan, that roamed the waters in search of the companion someone took her away.
Love means giving oneself, to become one you love and be loved in turn, for what it is and will be. Love means feel always beside your loved one, which in turn will seeking for you. Love is blind and deaf, but not dumb. Love has a inhuman strength, it goes everywhere and can not be stopped. But what sense can be to love a ghost, or to love one who shows not to love but wants only to be loved?
Do not be afraid to go into the world alone, because you're never indeed alone. Do not be afraid of having to discuss as a male things for them males absurd, you will see who is right. Never lower the gaze if a man looks at you strangely, You look at him straight in the eye and you'll see that he'll flee. But have always fear and defend yourself bywhom tells you that you are beautiful just to take you to bed, while he would like to have you as a slave.
Rimani davanti ai miei occhi, e lascia che il tuo sguardo infiammi i miei canti. Resta fra le tue stelle, e alla loro luce lascia ch'io accenda la mia adorazione. La terra rimane in attesa sul ciglio della strada del mondo; Rimani in piedi sulverdemantello ch'essa ha steso sul tuo cammino; e fa ch'io senta nei fiori di campo il prolungamento del mio saluto. Restanellamia sera solitaria doveilmiocuorevegliada solo; e colma la coppa della sua solitudine, chesente in me l'infinità del tuo amore.
Stay in front of my eyes, and let That your eye inflames my songs. Remains one of your stars, and their light let me turn on my worship. The land remains on hold the roadside of the world; Remain standing on the green mantle she has laid in your path; and let me feel the wild flowers an extension of my greeting. Stay in my lonely evenings where my heart is awake alone; and fills the cup of his loneliness, I feel that in the infinity of your love.
Where are you, great little point in the universe? Where are you now, small immense star which enlightens the hearts and minds of us men? Where are you going, running, between mountains and valleys, rivers and oceans, while being a drop of that immense water flowing fresh from your mountains? Where will you lodge, after such a long run, before you say that you want to be beloved, but still you do not know how to give love? Wait, then, that I will say you where to look for the love you want.
Memories, of strawberries and raspberries with white wine, in moments of quiet intimacy. Memories, of hands that were searching, lips who joined. Memories, of the running along the river of life, laughing and playing. Memories, of a past time but still close. Memories of you, that from the fog of time resurface brighter than ever, under the illusion of being still as I was.