Mount And Blade Pl Chomikuj

Aspettando la notte....

Ode to

Come night, Night and the same old, born dethroned Queen
Night, Night
internally equal to silence
Night with the stars, sequins on your dress fringed rapid
Infinity.

vaguely Come, come
slightly
come alone, solemn, his hands dropped
sides, and come
door behind the distant mountains of the nearby trees,
your funds in a field all the fields I see,
make the mountain a single block of your body,
remove it in all the differences I see from a distance during the day,
all the roads that go up,
all the different trees that are dark green in the distance, all the houses

white smoke through the trees
and leaves only a light, another light and another, in the distance
vague and vaguely disturbing,
in the distance suddenly unable to go.


Our Lady of the impossible things that we seek in vain,
dreams that visit us at dusk at the window of the purposes that we cherish

a large terrace overlooking the sea cosmopolitan hotels,
European music and the sound of distant voices and nearby
and we complain because we know that they never realize.

cullaci Come, come and console
,
baciaci silently on the forehead,
so lightly on the front that we are not aware of being kissed
except for a difference in the soul
and a faint sob from leaving mercifully
'
us where ancient roots of those trees whose wonder
fruits are the dreams that rocked and we love them because we know
no relation to what we can
be in life. Come

solemn, solemn and full

a hidden desire to sob, perhaps because
large and small is the soul's life, and not all
gestures can go out of our bodies, and arrived only
far as it goes
our arm and we see only as far as our eyes see.

Come, painful,
Mater Dolorosa of the anxieties of the timid,
ivory tower of the sadness of despised,
cool hand on the forehead of the feverish Humble,
taste of spring water on the parched lips of the Fed.

Vieni, dal fondo
dell'orizzonte livido,
vieni e strappami
dal suolo dell'angustia in cui io vegeto,
dal suolo di inquietudine e vita-di-troppo e false sensazioni
dal quale naturalmente sono spuntato.

Coglimi dal mio suolo, margherita trascurata,
e fra erbe alte margherita ombreggiata,
petalo per petalo leggi in me non so quale destino
e sfogliami per il tuo piacere,
per il tuo piacere silenzioso e fresco.

Un petalo di me lancialo verso il Nord,
dove sorgono le città di oggi il cui rumore ho amato come un corpo.
Un altro petalo di me lancialo verso il Sud
dove sono i mari e le avventure che si sognano.

Un another petal to the West, where it burns hot
everything that maybe it's the future,
and there are rumors of large machines and large rocky deserts
where souls are overgrown and morality does not come.

And the other, other, all other petals
- oh hidden toll of bells to hammer in my soul! -
trustworthy East,
the East which is all day and faith, the East
pompous and fanatic and hot, too
the East that I will never see, the East
Buddhist, Brahmanic , Shinto,
the East that is all we have, we are not all that
,
the East, where - Who knows - maybe even today live Christ
where perhaps there is a God reigning over all bodily ...

Come over seas, over seas more
,
above the sea by the uncertain horizons,
come and passed his hand on his back savage,
Calm him and mysteriously hypnotic
or tamer things crawling!

Come, caring,
come, maternal
on tiptoe, you sedesti
old nurse at the bedside of the associated loss of faith, and you saw born
Jehovah and Jupiter,
and you smiled because everything is false except the darkness and silence, and the vast
mystery beyond them ... Come, Silent Night and ecstatic,
wrap your mantle light
my heart ... Quietly, like a breeze in the evening slow
quietly, as a maternal gesture reassures
with twinkling stars (or disguise of the Beyond!)
gold dust in your hair blacks,
and waning moon, mask mysterious on your face.

All sounds playing in a different way when you come you
When you enter each item drops
No one sees you enter
Nobody notices when you came, if not
suddenly see that everything is gathered,
that it loses all the contours and colors,
and high into the sky, still clearly white and blue horizon,
already sharp scythe, or yellow circle, or simply spread whiteness, the moon begins its day.

- Fernando Pessoa