20 de abril de 2008
X'3
18 de abril de 2008
The Dream~The Birthday Massacre
The Birthday Massacre - The Dream
Her fabulous invention, what strange imagination shown
Her gloroius intentions, a sea of doubt beneath her own
It said "you're not the first to dream this, little girl
You know it's never happened once in this world
It never crossed my mind that one so young could hope to find
a power greater then my own"
She never did what they told her to
And they'll never see her dream come true
The edge of revelation, believing all the stories told
A final moment taken before this story's end unfolds
It said "you're not the first to dream this, little girl
You know it's never happened once in this world
It never crossed my mind that one so young could hope to find
a power greater then my own"
She never did what they told her to
And they'll never see her dream come true
Now she flies over clouds in twilight skies
Nothing to bind her, no one will find her this high
Far above the rainy weather
All plans have come together
And for the first time she feels just fine
1 de febrero de 2008
Shadow Bride
Merry christmas and happy new year x3
Shadow-bride
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892-1973)
There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past
he sat as still as carven stone,
and yet no shadow cast.
The white owls perched upon his head
beneath the winter moon;
they wiped their beaks and thought him dead
under the stars of June.
There came a lady clad in grey
in the twilight shining:
one moment she would stand and stay,
her hair with flowers entwining.
He woke, as had he sprung of stone,
and broke the spell that bound him;
he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,
and wrapped her shadow round him.
There never more she walks her ways
by sun or moon or star;
she dwells below where neither days
nor any nights there are.
But once a year when caverns yawn
and hidden things awake,
they dance together then till dawn
and a single shadow make.
La novia sombra
Había un hombre que vivía solo,
Mientras pasaban el día y la noche
Se sentaba tan quieto como una piedra esculpida,
Y no arrojaba ninguna sombra.
Los búhos blancos se posaban sobre su cabeza
Bajo la luna de invierno;
Se frotaban los picos y lo creían muerto
Bajo las estrellas de junio.
Llegó una dama vestida de gris
Brillando en el crepúsculo:
Permaneció quieta un instante,
Con flores entrelazadas en su pelo.
Él despertó, como surgido de la piedra,
Y rompióse el hechizo que lo retenía;
La abrazó deprisa, ambos de carne y hueso,
Y ella arremolinó su sombra alrededor de él.
Ella no anda más por sus caminos
Con sol, luna o estrellas;
Mora abajo, donde no existe día
Ni noche alguna.
Pero una vez al año, cuando bostezan las cavernas
Y despiertan las cosas ocultas,
Bailan juntos hasta el amanecer
Y no proyectan más que una sombra.