not like you wrote to me: not that I feel more attracted by the uncertain fate of the gods, which promises that I made.
Yes, remember my words in thy father's house. Osiris, ruler of eternity, is engraved on the wall of Eternity, I stated the truth in the hand of Neb-er-ter, my promise is not an image in pools of water that the mud-stained back of lies.
Yes, there we expect stories, with the sadness that came at times, the roots of our literature, on the dim darkness of the cliffs. Where the truth? She is always around the bust of fantasy. Where our dreams? The storm and the light make us forget the secret. Where poetry? It has been used almost entirely to silence the song of the nymphs.
In these, and in these valleys of the beautiful Nile, tired, and buffeted by the winds of fate, I am driven by the forces of freedom condemned by the gods. That afternoon when
close your eyes, your lips, which was the hotter side of your face, I deposited a kiss goodbye and promise to attend the event in the land of our ancestors.
clouds darken Maalula City and the land rises in the distance with mountains Light pregnant by an Old Moon. A sparrow perched shakes his head after walking away from me, picking up the crumbs I've dropped a loaf of white barley. I think that now we cling to the memory, with no possibility of comfort, petting the last day.
I see you sitting on the steps of the temple of Net access, "great designer of life," tired of looking for lost loves. Crows perch among the branches of a beautiful sycamore where cheering on your bare back. What wall of sadness! Tears playing with the mirror of your cheeks. Whether or not you want the memory of a distant love is a blinding light worm.
Let this first month of summer spent the god Pachón, fill you health and prosperity, magnify your beauty and do not let them fill your heart with sadness of the distance. SERI Belit
