Bonnetia Genevieve Jost - Mostar ou la chute de l'ange
Angela, my sad soul into your arms
flight routes
anxious to find them quiet .
flight routes
anxious to find them quiet .
That's always the angels of heaven
those
softly lull us and give us rest and comfort provided.
You have a voice that the noise lies in the simple
doves, and the echo
quiet murmur of the fountain,
And even in the bosom of innocence find no place dry
sound so naive on my
is dilated hole.
Yes, I have not spent my youth,
retain the illusion and feeling
and I can still love to listen to tender: Ora
famous love your cute accent, duels
you pray, you always hear me tenderly
understanding heart.
And if in the age of ambition and comfort each other not fight
we our souls much punishment,
Angela, how where we cry? Whither
simple and beautiful love
of our youth we muse?
of roses and jasmine hair, I can
crown, but ambitious
by tying the neck bend laurel:
I want to devote my old painful to hold candid
maidens in their friendship only my soul rests,
enthusiasm and virtue meet them and their harps
very sweet and holy
the comfort and peace of my complaints.
why you fly, what tender
sing to God and the love of my life
perpetual stream of emotions that many.
So feeling dejected
and soul into your arms headed
because they host the beautiful des. More
me your lullaby pilgrim price
war that the tubes where the sounds horrific battles
imagine
More price I, maiden, your songs
than dark
history books where I found but never smudges;
More Soft friendship price glory, most of my fellow
smile that the greatest warrior
victory.
Two by two turtle doves poet, singing about the rude
oak branches swaying in the breeze:
This company give you my sorrows
breath infusing a dull chest
the burning sky of your songs ...
I no longer suffer, my eyelids falling
your benign influence, sweet friend,
slowly and my spirit in your arms adurmiendo
will ... God bless!
those
softly lull us and give us rest and comfort provided.
You have a voice that the noise lies in the simple
doves, and the echo
quiet murmur of the fountain,
And even in the bosom of innocence find no place dry
sound so naive on my
is dilated hole.
Yes, I have not spent my youth,
retain the illusion and feeling
and I can still love to listen to tender: Ora
famous love your cute accent, duels
you pray, you always hear me tenderly
understanding heart.
And if in the age of ambition and comfort each other not fight
we our souls much punishment,
Angela, how where we cry? Whither
simple and beautiful love
of our youth we muse?
of roses and jasmine hair, I can
crown, but ambitious
by tying the neck bend laurel:
I want to devote my old painful to hold candid
maidens in their friendship only my soul rests,
enthusiasm and virtue meet them and their harps
very sweet and holy
the comfort and peace of my complaints.
why you fly, what tender
sing to God and the love of my life
perpetual stream of emotions that many.
So feeling dejected
and soul into your arms headed
because they host the beautiful des. More
me your lullaby pilgrim price
war that the tubes where the sounds horrific battles
imagine
More price I, maiden, your songs
than dark
history books where I found but never smudges;
More Soft friendship price glory, most of my fellow
smile that the greatest warrior
victory.
Two by two turtle doves poet, singing about the rude
oak branches swaying in the breeze:
This company give you my sorrows
breath infusing a dull chest
the burning sky of your songs ...
I no longer suffer, my eyelids falling
your benign influence, sweet friend,
slowly and my spirit in your arms adurmiendo
will ... God bless!
Carolina Coronado
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