English Version
gothique et romantique

My dreams fled

Publié le 12 Mar 2014

romantisch, gothique, romantique, gotisch, rêve, fantastique, fantastisch, sombre, dunkel, traum, romántico, gótico, soñado, oscuro, fantástico, romantico, gotico, sognato, scuro, fantastico, porte, eau, pierres, , eau, see, mer, cimetière, croix, poème d’amour, lettre d’amour, roman gothique, poème romantique, lettre romantique, poème gothique, gothique et romantique, larme, église gothique, mélancolique, mélancolie, nuit, night, dark, sombre, memories, souvenirs, melancoly

My dreams fled. Do not rove any more in the middle of my nights. Leaving a diffuse trace like a confused rumor. Where a sad feeling rustles. Carried by the wind. That later will not be any more like front. My dreams fled. Loans of nostalgia. Releasing a revolt, a bit of fury. Who prevents me from sleeping. Carrying Me to insomnia. Country where so many memories are hustled. Their recall bewitches me, carries me sorrow. My dreams fled. In a search veins. Made drunk of these moments of madness. Where the night was black charged to know. Where the images were colored colors. Mixed with the imaginary grounds, their savors. My dreams fled. Leaving nothing for absence of life. On an absorbed ground. From where goes up the nauseous mud. Questions without answers. Who abound. Who tear like brambles. Fragile skin of the veil of the memories. My dreams fled. In a perfume of end. Of all and nothing. My dreams fled. Without taking the hand. With the body accompanying their destiny. Creating in the drift of time. The languor of these vapors. Who hide the following day. Behind the folding screen mocker. Of an ice-cold reality. Arrival to extinguish heat. Dreams which will be never rigid. With their nimble skeleton, their flexible and futile thought. My dreams fled. In the middle one night. Opening the hand. Cutting our bonds. Giving up itself on the wave. Releasing itself towards another world. Me, the fussy one to leave. Hoping to see them returning. By leaving a diffuse trace like a confused rumor. Where a sad feeling rustles. Carried by the wind. That later will not be any more like front.

le sang de la nuit, la naissance de l'ange, decouvrez le dernier roman de steffan urell

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