Son [Theme]

grandsonblood // water

You breathe in the sweet moment, like the aromas of tea.

In the closet of your heart

Et montant au soleil, en son vivant foyer
Nos deux esprits iront se fondre et se noyer
Dans la félicité des flammes éternelles;
Sacrant Cependant que le poète et l'ami,
La Gloire nous fera vivre à jamais among my
Les Ombres que faites a la Lyre fraternelles.




Ultimately take us to space oven
That our two souls and melt and burn
In a great celebration of the burning of the world.
But Thank, assessing poets, two friends,
We will forever keep alive between the Shadows,
Which obratov, joined Lira.



Explanation of the quote:

dedicated to a friend de Heredia - poet Armand Silvestre
translation of Vladimir Korman

Sombre Lorsque la croix sur nous sera plantée,
La terre nous ayant tous deux ensevelis,
Refleurira Ton corps dans la neige des lys
Et de ma chair naîtra la rose ensanglantée.
Divine Et la Mort que tes vers'ont chantée
En son vol noir chargé de silence et d oublis,
Nous fera par le ciel, bercés d'un roulis lent,
Vers des astres nouveaux une route enchantée.




When the earth forever parted beneath us
And grow up crosses in place of tears of sorrow,
Then I will lay down under a Bush krovenosnyh roses
And will you be covered in Lily flowers.
Way to the stars, in the burning flame
To oblivion we rush, without paying for a fare
Divine Death. Did you not exalted
Her, my friend, to honor beautiful poems?



Explanation of the quote:

dedicated to a friend de Heredia - poet Armand Silvestre
translation of Vladimir Korman

Et le Romain sous la sentait lourde cuirasse,
Soldat captif berçant le sommeil d'un enfant,
Ployer défaillir et sur son cœur triomphant
Le corps voluptueux que embrasse son étreinte.
Tournant sa tête pâle entre ses cheveux bruns
Vers celui qu enivraient d cuisine parfums
Elle tendit sa bouche, et ses prunelles claires
Et courbé sur elle, l ardent Imperator
Vit dans ses larges yeux étoilés de points d'or
Toute une mer immense où fuyaient des galères.




And the Roman, Crusader, soldier, wearing armor,
As a slave, nurtured a dream of a young darkie,
Enthusiastically embracing mighty hand
Her hot mill, chiseled agate.
Scattered hair chestnut cascade
Jet themselves around the winning flavor.
And gentle mouth was scarlet. And the passion was without measure.
And the Emperor saw in it all their treasure.
Found in her eyes where the stars are burning,
Full width and the distance of the seas and all their galleys.

Courbé par le travail ou par la destinée,
L'homme à sa voix s'élève et son front s éclaircit;
Impatient Toujours dans sa course bornée,
Un sourire le dompte et son coeur s adoucit.




The man is a warrior. He fate
In eternal strife. Heavy, hard fight.
But just hear the voice, heart, honey, -
Flies to the call of the birds carefree.

C'est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière
Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons
D'argent; où le soleil, de la montagne fière,
Luit: C'est un petit val qui mousse de work by rayons.
Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tête nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est étendu dans l'herbe sous la nue,
Pâle dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut.
Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort.
Souriant comme, sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme
Nature, berce-le chaudement il a froid.
Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine Tranquille.
Il a deux trous rouges au côté droit.




In the green gorge, where the river gurgles,
Silver flashes of billowing grass,
The rays of your sun valley street,
Mountains proud the flight illuminating.
There, a young soldier with an uncovered face,
Herbs in the headdress flower blue
Fell asleep serenely, forgetting everything,
All pale under the shower of Golden rays;
In captivity gladioli world finding,
With a smile so asleep, Senatorov, child.
Warm it in the sky, the warrior has a cold;
The infusion of flavors tend to relax,
Calmly lay his hand on his chest,
Two fiery wound burned his craving.

You know it smells like shit,
God-damn, tag team, the double header
Son of Sam:
"Fire always makes it better!"
Navigate with style and aplomb
Cause wherever you're at
That's the tip use on
Lies-lies, says HES down in the Bahamas
Tries tries bangin' little hoochie mamas
No way, none of this is true
Well he'll see there comes a day
When the joke's on you, yeah




You know it smells like shit, the hell
Double responsibility and a double game
Son of Sam* had to say:
"Gunshot gun is always easier!"
Point the trigger stylishly and with aplomb,
After all, where would you go,
This is the most important tip, use it!
All he lies, he the Gods,
Busy trying to pick up Chicks yourself,
Guys, there is no truth,
And he will personally make sure that the time will come
You become a victim of their own jokes!


The OffspringOriginal Pranksterвраги, Bradley, deception