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Mareea

Răsplată de la salvator,
colorat,
deschis sezonier fără sezon
scumpa mea.
Mirosul variabil, sângele cald,
mă arzi.
Nu e ca şi cum renunți la
această maree*.
 
Furtuna mea, dezastru meu, dorința mea...
Nu ajunge, dragostea nu ajunge.
Ce drăguță este violența ta,
ce frumoasă este compasiunea*.
Iubitule iubirea mea vine la tine.
Până la moarte am să te urmăresc, n-am să te las.
 
Este inflamabil, nopțile sunt aprinse,
nopțile se sting.
Trupul meu e cu susul în jos, beat,
capul meu se întoarce.
Recunoaște confuz,
Sarea este confuză de recunoaștere scumpa mea.
Nu e ca şi cum renunți la
această maree*.
 
Furtuna mea, dezastru meu, dorința mea...
Nu ajunge, dragostea nu ajunge.
Ce drăguță este violența ta,
ce frumoasă este compasiunea*.
Iubitule iubirea mea vine la tine.
Până la moarte am să te urmăresc, n-am să te las.
 
Ege Kökenli

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The Path of Life

Here is a lion, my people !
(We say it's a lion, a lion)
Here is a lion, my people !
(We say it's a lion)
A lion !
Peut-être
(A lion)
We will conquer
(A lion)
The lion and the spotted leopard
The lion and the spotted leopard
 
In the sunlight, we arrive on the Earth
We are alert, we feel the Sun
There are many thing we could see
More than we could ever do
More than we could ever find
The yellow sun
In the sky
 
The path of life
Impels all of us
At the end of hope
Faith, and love
We will find a place
On the dawn that weaves
On the path,
The path of life
 
The path of life
Impels all of us
At the end of hope
Faith, and love
We will find a place
On the dawn that weaves
On the path,
The path of life
 
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Julevädno

The river flows, whispers to me
Julevädno speaks to my heart
Voice of the river leads me
Julevädno touches my soul
The well lies far up west
Pours water into the river day by day
The water of this river is sacred to me
This river valley the place I want to be
 
Clear water like silver
Rushing with force through all times
The soul of the river whispers to me
Julevädno I love and honour you
Nothing takes the soul of that river
The clear silver water
As long as the water flows
And the rushing sound of streaming water
Can be heard
There will be hope and comfort in our lives
 
'Cuando quieres algo, todo el Universo conspira para que realices tu deseo.' Paulo Coelho
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Whoever Wants to See the Outland

Whoever wants to see the outland
shall sally forth and be my journeyman
on the ways of Saint James!
He needs two pairs of shoes,
a bowl and a bottle.
 
A broad-brimmed hat should he have
and don't go without a cloak
richly stitched with leather;
the snow may fall, the rain may fall or the wind may blow,
the air shall not bewet him.
 
Bag and staff1 are carried along as well.
He should make sure that he went to confession,
confessed and penanced.
If he comes to the foreign2 lands,
he can't find any German priest.
 
  • 1. pilgrim's staff
  • 2. 'welsch' is anything non-German in a broader sense and Romanic countries like France and Italy in the narrow sense; not to be confused with the Welsh of Wales.
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amazarashi - Sayonara gokko さよならごっこ (Pretending to Say Goodbye)

Melancholy scatters in the wind and casts a shadow where it gathers.
 
Our footsteps incessantly remind us of our impermanence, and I get so lost when I peer into the depth of your eyes.
 
We used to have hopes, right? About what lies ahead?
 
The reason we joke and laugh is that the road we travel is so dark, and I guess it's our job to turn on the lights.
 
I'm all to familiar with pretending to say goodbye, but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
 
This deep red sadness of ours gets darker, and darker, and then becomes night.
 
Even if it's inevitable that tomorrow will come around, I didn't ever say that I wanted to live for it.
 
Even though I'm better off quitting, I still keep on having dreams of the future. Of the future. And it's all your fault.
 
All the things we need to accomplish are hanging from the crescent moon.
 
Even wandering the roads at the night, your figure radiates reassurance.
 
It takes time to trust - especially when it's trusting another person.
 
But if we're on the same road, there's no reason to stay distant either.
 
When all's said and done, if I'm going to share something, then I'll need someone to share it with, and I'll need myself too.
 
I'm all to familiar with pretending to say goodbye, but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
 
This deep red sadness of ours gets darker, and darker, and then becomes night.
 
If love was there from the very beginning, we never checked to be sure.
 
Destiny takes us along to meet the most unexpected people, and they leave a lasting impression in the depths of our hearts.
 
If there's hardship, we can bear it. If there's pain, we can share it.
 
But I couldn't shoulder your burdens all the way up to your fated destination.
 
Farewells are always hard, no matter how many times I've done them, so we're only pretending to part ways. This is just a goodbye game.
 
It's a game where I trick myself by saying ''I'm sure we'll meet again.''
 
''I'm sure we'll meet again.''
 
I'm all too familiar with pretending to say goodbye, but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
 
These deep red lies of ours they dampen, and dampen, and then morning arrives.
 
I guess the fact that we've grown apart means that we were united at one point.
 
If we called it ''giving up'', then I'd feel guilty doing it.
 
But it's fate. It's fate. That's what you called it.