تويت
[frame="9 85"]Upon the secrets of philosophy...
We have one opportunity to exile Aristotle,
To philosophy better than Plato,
However, never be right to whip the essence of wisdom.
We score some pink souvenirs on the handkerchief
After each loving adventure with a dissipated mental notion
We lick slowly a decayed energy of the last dictator.
We know that we are unable to satisfy the pretension's field.
So, let some poor images pray near the mausoleum…
Let the soul get up from its stone age to see its reverse side
On the other hand, may be to realize the sublime legend,
…the legendary enigma.
As for the transparent handkerchief,
It gives off the fresh smell all over the place.
For a long time, we hide its symphony in the right pocket
Moreover, we song the praises of God in the left one
The disciplinary wonder shared between the lovers,
It forms only the most expensive look on the errant East…
So his majesty, the handkerchief, ready like a disciplined hand,
Flies over our intimate tendency,
Then it lands on the tendentious west
We usually insist to fold our secrets like every thing in life…
We do not want that they exhibit the brain borders.
Seriously, we appreciate differently thousands and thousands of empty
Ways…
All the hands, with witch the sweat consumes space and time,
Are now mortifying the desire,
Ending the first beginning,
Separating the ultimate role from its eternity
Some insignificant figures painted in the middle…
Some green ideas pushed out side the mind…
And to create the best coming,
The handkerchief uses an invisible thorn
To decorate lips and cheeks
The waiting can take just what we absolutely suggested,
Only some fanatical moments,
Not more than uncolored seconds.
Finally, the nuptial night bears witness
That the handkerchief is the master of appointments,
The invincible oath of a loyal attorney
…The most wonderful distance between gift and heart
On the other hand, the most peaceful hymn among pure hands…
! …so what else[/frame]
We have one opportunity to exile Aristotle,
To philosophy better than Plato,
However, never be right to whip the essence of wisdom.
We score some pink souvenirs on the handkerchief
After each loving adventure with a dissipated mental notion
We lick slowly a decayed energy of the last dictator.
We know that we are unable to satisfy the pretension's field.
So, let some poor images pray near the mausoleum…
Let the soul get up from its stone age to see its reverse side
On the other hand, may be to realize the sublime legend,
…the legendary enigma.
As for the transparent handkerchief,
It gives off the fresh smell all over the place.
For a long time, we hide its symphony in the right pocket
Moreover, we song the praises of God in the left one
The disciplinary wonder shared between the lovers,
It forms only the most expensive look on the errant East…
So his majesty, the handkerchief, ready like a disciplined hand,
Flies over our intimate tendency,
Then it lands on the tendentious west
We usually insist to fold our secrets like every thing in life…
We do not want that they exhibit the brain borders.
Seriously, we appreciate differently thousands and thousands of empty
Ways…
All the hands, with witch the sweat consumes space and time,
Are now mortifying the desire,
Ending the first beginning,
Separating the ultimate role from its eternity
Some insignificant figures painted in the middle…
Some green ideas pushed out side the mind…
And to create the best coming,
The handkerchief uses an invisible thorn
To decorate lips and cheeks
The waiting can take just what we absolutely suggested,
Only some fanatical moments,
Not more than uncolored seconds.
Finally, the nuptial night bears witness
That the handkerchief is the master of appointments,
The invincible oath of a loyal attorney
…The most wonderful distance between gift and heart
On the other hand, the most peaceful hymn among pure hands…
! …so what else[/frame]