Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me,
My face spill so gently into your eyes,
Disturbing the waters of our lives.
Shreds of our memories are lying on your grass;
Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past.
Photographs are gray and torn, scattered in your fields
Letters of your memories are not real.
Sadness on your shoulders like a worn out overcoat
In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope.
The daybreak is your midnight; the colors have all died.
Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives,
lives, lives...
Of our lives.
Greg Lake
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Te invito a un paseo por mis cosas, las que están, las que no se ven, las escritas y las que nunca lo serán. Esas cosas, las mías y las tuyas, todas las que son.
2 comments:
On this cloudy and rainy day,
of this never ending winter,
even though we call it spring,
I feel the ripples spill my face
looking forward the the sun
of better times yet to come.
Very touching, Freddy. Now I desperately need a spring.
Love
Adriana
Muy lindo lo que vos ecribiste, la primavera, vamos prima, tus nietitos son mas luminosos que ningún sol...
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