Saturday, November 23, 2013

Mio mother tik nun knew idiomes but as mimosa yera ... dicíame tik that enfotu Algamar as anything.


Mio mother tik nun knew idiomes but as mimosa yera ... dicíame tik that enfotu Algamar as anything. Mio mother nun knew idiomes but Freses Falaba to them, Facia Russian salad and thousand French tortielles. Mio mother nun knew then stepped escueles idiomes poques, facia and a Galician Caldu Bruseles sprouts and join ...! Mio mother nun knew idiomes, yera a great mother, Facia Cuban rice with sauce bolognese. Mio ... First verses poems mother, Aurelio González Ovies, edited by Pintar-Pintar, April 2010 (Issue in Asturian)
Desque as arrincaras all!
A very rich and economical dish. I guess, the most and the least, a little walk all surfeit so lunch and dinner. tik But ...
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Everything's Word
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In the old looks the moon sings tangos. I am the father of those who happen to me, I'm a native Gypsy Flower's worth, I am the ancestral spinning wagon wheel. I am a wandering path. I come from the north.
Sometimes you have parts of infinite sadness and you stay silent watching callas, with withered hands around the world. Then I freeze the kiss and the word. When we met it was all a lie, the trees, the streets, the light on your face, was quite a starry night backgrounds. tik I will no longer look like your eyes at all. No longer wakes the sun behind your hair, not the gods descend to smear on your soul. I can not think of you above all. You do not always say the first word. Sometimes you unstoppable layers of bitterness and hint me your bones buried in the coals. I can not kiss you lips depopulated. You probably do not look like me at all. Of poems "At present," Aurelio G. Ovies
PRECISELY now, I've thought about us, and when you can no longer lose old age, you get wet autumns tik lips. Someday we'd say so alone like a deserted town park, with all our fallen leaves on the ground and sucking many names November, the arms length made oblivion. Someday I would say a tree and you're a tree. Ovies Aurelio González, "The times in vain"
Scary but noblón


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