Your blue eyes,
killed me twice..
The firs,I you see
in the absence your
that my accepted other...
My a tree this summer
you was perch
turned to brown from green my twigs
now The only consolation
I've heard then,from far away
at cries my mockingbird...
Red in color if a Love
the separations,blue is..
Give me one luck?
But I promise you,
you will not be alone
blind in the darkness...
OFS
Translate;
Senin mavi gözlerin,
beni iki kez öldürdü.
İlki,seni gördüğümdeydi.
Diğeri kabul ettiğim,yokluğunda...
Benim ağaca konmuştun,bu yaz
yeşilden kahverengine dönen dallarımda..
Şimdi tek tesellim,uzaklardaki
alaycı kuşlarının haykırışlarında...
Aşkın rengi kırmızıysa, mavi imiş ayrılıklar.
Bir şans daha verirmisin?
Ama söz sana bu sefer,
yalnız kalmayacaksın kör karanlıklarda...
Gülümcan - Murat Isbilen ( Classical guitar ) by Behzfd
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=))
=D>
:D
:P
:-O
:-?
:-SS
:-f
d(
:-*
b-(
h-(
g-)
5-p
y-)
c-)
s-)
d-)
w-)
:-h
:X
Love
ResponderEliminarThank youAnna :love:
ResponderEliminarThank you my dear friend Ömerfor share a poem writen by you , I like very muchI am very glad when I find your poem in the group, I rememberwhen you share in the before group of poem , I never forget, thanks again....I like the music toostay with love :love:
ResponderEliminarThank you very much dear friend Dasha ...but not very often my poems though it is in of this pagegenuinely, I can not find the opportunity :flirt: stay with love :love: When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. By William Butler Yeats
ResponderEliminarOriginally posted by wazquecme:but not very often my poems though it is in of this pagegenuinely, I can not find the opportunitywhy you can not find the opportunity for share a poem of you :rolleyes: :worried: :awww:
ResponderEliminarEl otoño se acerca con muy poco ruido:apagadas cigarras, unos grillos apenas,defienden el reductode un verano obstinado en perpetuarse,cuya suntuosa cola aún brilla hacia el oeste.Se diría que aquí no pasa nada,pero un silencio súbito ilumina el prodigio:ha pasadoun ángelque se llamaba luz, o fuego, o vida.Y lo perdimos para siempre.*Ángel González