Nacencia
Jose Maria Gabriel y Galán. This poem is the last he wrote the author, a few days after the death of his father and also just before his own.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Incesti Italiani 18 Dvd
Song
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not ever think tearful
this song sore
a whim tissue
for a happy muse.
not think that is harmonious
game of a light estrus;
I think
profane nor sound lies
heartbreaking sentences
Heart a brother.
A song of pain
ask me my
suffer like yesterday my Quereres
loves singing requested;
that are larger and
if you sing the happy, well
sore,
if not heal the wounds
tame the suffering .
My sorrows are as common as
thickets
of all spiny.
are deeper than the seas ...
deepest and darkest
a horizon without days
as there is no abyss so deep
as the bottomless pit
of empty entrails.
God made them fire me ...
Why not give them hard
if wanted strength test
blow by blow then?
Why
enriched irrigation for sowing of love
flower garden that can give
if days then sends
of killer
drought and devastating winds?
Ay! Upon arriving at the gates
pm of my life,
voice from heaven coming
told me: "now open!
Sign on and on, and not convert
mind to better days,
instead of those loves
of pristine sanctities,
see the deserted ruins of
solar your elders! "
" Better is blind, my God!
is better to go step by step
own demise falling toward the
alone, with sorrow and cold!
vacuum is better to go
that ruins and graves!
are Best
blackness of the darkest night,
that the blackness of the day
that are twice the dark! "
So Crazy pain
with vile little voice said ...
This clay that I have
was who said it, Lord!
why it glow
of You, come to me,
when you spoke I felt
you know you said you:
"Lord's son in front of you
delivered to YOU! "
mourn Just my luck,
just leave open
of that injury the door,
died a sad death.
More, son of the mighty God I
I have resigned myself to live,
and I letting myself go
the dust of the trail walking
half rein
the field of feeling.
Because if I pay the forehead
on clenched hands,
if towards the sacred ruins
let your mind go,
if I cry the torrent
let me swamped life
if more opened this wound
that fire burning fever,
live like a coward,
died as a suicide.
want to live! The sweetness
of
pleasures enjoyed with ice suffer
become completely pure.
sight of my misfortunes:
I do not I close my eyes!
Road thistles:
I cover my plants! Cruz
my broken man:
I accept you without anger!
want to live! God is life.
Do not you see that life makes
old age in death
fell to fresh fall?
life Am I not born
of life that give me? For
lives in me join,
if I live not die,
why I live
not die because my garden!
And die with me,
the garden of my love
runneth
flowers painted by God and me coat!
And the north wind behind enemy
of these my old songs,
they are saints
links in a chain
Florida for crown woven
of God's creations.
want to live! A God I
and God will not die,
goes to East
up for the brief tonight.
of light and shadow
am and I want to give them both.
I want to stop me after
robust and holy seed
of this that I have clay,
of this that I have God!
This poem has always been one of my favorites of all authors.
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