Saturday, 1 April 2017

Mándame las flores cuando aún pueda olerlas ;)))


En mi pueblo las flores son distintas,
huelen diferente y eso tiene una explicación,
tú vives allí y eso dice muchas cosas.
Las flores de mi pueble tienen tu perfume,
tu aroma, tus vivencias, tu historia.
Las flores de mi pueblo huelen a ti,
es por ello que la fragancia es bella
y hace palpitar locamente a mi corazón.
Sin ti, las flores no son lo mismos,
no huelen a rosas, no emiten sentimientos,
no son dignas de ser apreciadas,
sin ti, las flores de mi pueblo,
son de papel, de tela, de tristeza.
No te vayas nunca de mi lado,
no quiero que las flores se marchiten,
como lo haría mi corazón....

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You are the pattern in the weaving of my existence. You are the secret code that unlocks all that is mine. You are the manner in which I dance, flying from cloud to cloud…You are the answer to all my questions, always unexpected, which raises me from one world to another.You are my sailing boat on the ocean of infinite tranquility and bliss. My most beautiful ark. Your soul has no limits, and it is in my eyes that You are endless…
And thus when I am not asking You anything then, in fact, I am asking You; And when I do not see You – I do indeed see you. And when You are silent You are speaking inside of me; and when you are asleep you are awake inside of me.....
You'll never be able to escape from your heart. So, it's better to listen to what it has to say. That way you'll never have to fear an unanticipated blow...