Viento Espanol

Big Tits

Through white brick buildings, blisters the warm blowing air,Ravishing the deserts, where all my thoughts and feelingPolish and bellow against the sun’s sage ceiling,Whose wicked showers crackle the hillsides, bare. Like an Armada, with treasures floating away;Over the horizon, sail the footsteps of my years –In the blue beyond, of shattered visions and tears.Still, I’m a conqueror, in every unexplored new day. In the whitened stillness, the heat begins fermenting,Whispering my destiny, and what the future Çukurambar Escort will tell,For the nights are sounds, whose hidden mysteries quell,The Spanish wind, whose currents are voices lamenting. So Enrique!  O Enrique!  Open my somber prisons!Velvet strings and satin horns are breezesIn the swirling hands of a cyclone, whose gasp seizes;With melodic romances, I’m free from brick wall visions. The music is a painting, of “Cobos de Porcel”;Behind her veil lurks Dante’s Çukurambar Escort Bayan mystical fires,Her eyes and mouth rim coal and crimson desires,Blending like the rouge soaked sunset, Dona Isabel! Into her bosom, I’m weaned on nocturnal hours.My soul I must give, tonight, and tomorrow so soon,But now the garden foliage is absorbed into the moon,Whose flowering smiles are hers, and mine, and ours. Then across the armor of sultry crowded skiesI hear your voice drifting, Escort Çukurambar like a rose scent fading,But in that gallant moment, alone, I am wading;Being so maniacally blessed, in the visions of their sighs. A hero is but a pearl in a woman’s dreams,And a target for the tempest of twin pronged soaring,Crumpled I lie, beneath the black beast’s goring;Punctured, too, by the tides of their demonic screams. In the even, I won’t hear my doleful bells drip,Resounding the memory of her I gave that day.O Spanish wind!  Your fate has stolen me away!But fighters never fall, death is the drink lovers sip. What is my life, laid down, for any one woman?My hands are doves carrying hope in each encounter,My heart is a wound, oozing like grapes in their splendor,I am but a cringing fool, chasing the sun.

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