Segunda-feira, 5 de Novembro de 2007
Neste Outono quero cair nos seus braços como uma folha que se desprende dos ramos, quero voar ao sabor do seu sopro, quero espalhar-me no caminho que recebe os seus passos, quero molhar-me na chuva dos seus lábios.
La Belle Saison, 1961
SHE FELL INTO MY ARMS
Ed Harcourt
(...)
Well there's a thousand things I shouldn't do
But if I do them I should do them with you
So won’t you fall into my arms again
And hold me for the world may end
And if you need to kiss me
You'll most definitely miss me
When I’m gone
God you make me sing funny things about you
You infect my mind all the time you do
Well I just cant contain myself
In fact I’m worried I might lose my health
I cant eat sleep or hardly breathe
I can hardly ever watch you leave
(...)
De
Nuno a 5 de Novembro de 2007 às 12:33
The room is cold,
and has been like this for several months.
If I close my eyes,
I can visualise everything in it,
right down, right down to the broken handle on the third drawer down
of the dressing table.
And the world outside this room,
has also assumed a familiar shape,
the same events shuffeled in a slightly different order each day.
Just like a modern shopping centre.
And it's so cold - yeah it's so cold.
It's so cold yeah, it's so cold.
What is this feeling called love.
Why me, why you, why here, why now.
It doesn't make no sense no.
It's not convenient no.
It doesn't fit my plans no.
It's something I don't understand oh.
F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A. double L.E.D. L.O.V.E.
Oh what is this thing that is happening to me.
And as I'm standing across this room,
I feel as if my whole life has been leading to this one moment.
And as I touch your shoulder tonight,
this room has become the centre of the entire universe.
So what do I do? I've got a slightly sick feeling in my stomach,
like I'm standing on top of a very high building, oh yeah.
All the stuff they tell you about in the movies,
but this isn't chocolate boxes and roses.
It's dirtier than that,
like some small animal that only comes out at night.
And I see flashes of the shape of your breasts,
and the curve of your belly,
and I may have to sit down and catch my breath.
(...)
:-)
P.s: Gosto particularmente dos últimos versos... ;-)
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