Rushing away. In the light of a new song I like the perception of a sweet sensibility, the height of the season and a burning desire. Francesco Sinibaldi
All 81 comments by...
Sinibaldi
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I love your behaviour... I love your behaviour, the light of a blackbird and a luminous farm; I listen to you when a care disappears and then, in the sound of a new day, a magical dreamland invites me to cry.... Francesco Sinibaldi http://forum.china.org.cn/viewthread.php?tid=1749&extra=page=1
Posted to Back in the U.S.S.R.
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I call you, my dear.... Like a magical fear, in my heart, there's always a footprint that now disappears in the light of a pathway, and there my desire gives an attention to some beautiful birds. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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The trees and the mountain. In the centre of the valley, and when a blackbird comes back in the sound of a care, I see that desire, already the sunshine and a timid idea now reflecting the youth.... Francesco Sinibaldi Italy/Usa.
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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Facing the sea... A delicate and soft wind is blowing near an empty space, while the curtain covers a silky notepaper describing a picture and the love for the youth; I call you my darkness, I wait for a dream...... Francesco Sinibaldi http://forums.liverpoolecho.co.uk/viewtopic.php?t=40213
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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At the first opportunity... In this period, and in its true light, the sound of a picture forgets and emotion in the care of a faith; a candle reappears, a delicate silence remembers a river and then, at the first opportunity, I'll love you my darling..... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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Aurora cristiana. S'apre la vallata, in sul nascer del mattino: odo un canto palpitare, onde lieto e quinci allegro cinguetta il passerotto, come augello canterino che nel chiaror si desta e per la via festeggia; ridente e viva apparmi la montagna, in sul fiatar del sole, e ancor pe l'arie fugge al dì costante il suon della novella rima, sì soave e quasi in candido rumore. Codesto in cantilena, nel fior che nasce onde fulge l'avvenire, nei suoni dolci del passato, e ancor nel canto, d'amabil sorte e d'umano pianto. Francesco Sinibaldi Italy/Usa.
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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Collection of flowers. The right rose appears in my mind, and everywhere shines when the soft wind remains in the light of a flower; the cold leaf is dead and here there's a shadow, the delicate dark and a loving profile. Francesco Sinibaldi http://amicipoesia.mondoweb.net/topic814.html
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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Listening to you. In the cool celerity of a diffident young bird I try to forget a dying behaviour, the sound of a picture and a luminous care, easily, like an earnest desire. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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Devoted to you. It's night, the fall of an absent caprice leaves in the country a sullen behaviour, the sound of a fancy and always that care, like a beautiful fortune. Francesco Sinibaldi http://forums.canadiancontent.net/canadian-culture/74142-long-vigils-night.html
Posted to Reading The Onion Seriously
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The long vigils of the night. Near an alley, and where magical violins look like a melody of an ancient good sense, you hear the first light of a springtime and always, in all its meanings, the luminous wisdom forgets a white candle. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Atheism’s Unholy Trinity
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Hello my dear. Behind a melody the close of the day resembles the north wind attending a field, and this water-course appears in my mind like a delicate sadness at the height of the season: I wait for a pleasure, I dream the sunflower. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Atheism’s Unholy Trinity
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With fear in your eyes.... It's night, the tepid tincture of the valley invites me to escape near the sound of a woody recall, and this in your delicate sign, the second degree of a beautiful kiss... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Atheism’s Unholy Trinity
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A witty child in the dreamland. There's a witty child where a beautiful dreamland presents the profile of a delicate hedge, over a feeling, in the care of a blackbird; and there's also that sunset, the timid contour of a glittering flame. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to The Next Great Awakening
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I give you the sound... In the darkness, and when a soft wind arrives near a magic lantern, you call me like a glittering eye in the skill of a wisdom, you touch a desire, and then, in my heart, a delicate voice discovers a fate: you claim the atmosphere, I give the sound..... Francesco Sinibaldi Italy/Usa
Posted to The Next Great Awakening
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The red carpet of my shoulder. Early in the morning, when gloomy canticles rejoice in the sound of the quietness, I hear a scrupulous voice on the sun of a summer, while a sadness delights and discovers a care. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to The Next Great Awakening
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I'm lazy. When the night comes back telling a story, I'm lazy: beautiful sounds of a primitive faith appear in my mind, and even that arrow describes, in a moment, the slippery darkness of a tender caprice, there, where a light fades away...... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to The Next Great Awakening
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In the cold of my own. Last night, with a wispher in the sunshine of a melody, I tried to invent the sound of a tender emotion and also my life discovered the minute and a beautiful child. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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The sun and the blackbird. Like a nightingale coming back in the dark I hear a glimmer escaping in the twigs of a quietness, and finally a martin, smiling and tender. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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Romantic America. Romantic America, when a rosaceous sunset lightens the world near a frail little brook, and where everything shines like a diamond in the heart of a forest ; the north wind is blowing, the light of a fine day invents an emotion, and I love you America.... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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The light of a new day. The light of a new day solicits a blackbird in the care of a craving, in the beautiful darkness of a sunny concept, in the songs of my heart, like a tender idea now reflecting the straw. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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Perception of love. In a pensive pigeon, and near the colour of a perpetual land, there's a resolute sound now reflecting a savour of love, that greeting and the delicate prudence. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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The silent sound of a waterfall. Near the bush where singing blackbirds describe a signal of care I see the beautiful darkness, and also that sunset, when my sound fades away, discovers a dream and a tender idea. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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Sadness and melodies. Usually, when the sound of a pine-wood touches a care and a beautiful darkness, I hear a picture and a fallen desire, and here, in my childhood, a flower escapes... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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The damask rose and the martin. Here, in the deep and intense atmosphere of the first morning, the rising sun appears in a magical sky and always, like the light of my mind, a pleasure returns. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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A canticle and the romance. When the sunshine returns in the light of a gentle delight, remember the sound of a rosy notepaper, discover the wisdom in the care of a beautiful darkness and so, in the sky, that delicate dream will touch your profile.... Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Portrait of the Awkward Artist
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An instant in the care of a darkness. Suddenly, with the grace and a beautiful light, tender refrains of this present recall me describing a picture and a serious delight, and this is the darkness of the rising blackbird. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Bad Cop, Badder Cop in Brazil
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The inner part. The inner light and the beautiful and tender narrator invent a mutable moment, when Christmas arrives; I see a blackbird singing the birth of an ancient era, the time of my life, the care and the reason. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to King of the Crop
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Prudence and the melody. Arbours coloured by a soft September breeze delay in the sunshine of a beautiful morning, and a loving profile presents, in a moment, the taste of a dream. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to King of the Crop
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A flying and gentle sparrow. When the last lights of a sunrise disappear behind a melody I hear the song of a beautiful sparrow, the sound of a rank and the rising beginning now reflecting the pain. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to King of the Crop
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At the Mercy. In the resonant cypress situated, like a trembling leaf, in the breath of a novel and innocent morning, a sparrow alights and always, in the sun’s redness, a delicate flake discovers a dream. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to R.I.P. LiP
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Words of wisdom. Walking a long way in search of a memory the snow, fallen again in the care of a footprint, describes the profile of a sibilant hail-storm, and that flake rejoices like an useful singing. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Prairie Style Romance
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Peace and silence. Peace and silence in the soul of the present ; a bird, leaving the country, arrives near the care now reflecting your feeling and then, in the meantime, that beautiful flow seems a light in the heart of the wisdom. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Prairie Style Romance
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The wing and a fine time. Listening to the sound of a delicate hovel, and recalling a wonder, I see magic profiles near the heart of a luminous pine-tree; the wind fades away, the care of a blackbird describes and emotion and always, in silence, your beautiful mind returns in the sky. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Prairie Style Romance
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The land of a little promise. There’s a land where beautiful lapels transform in emotion the care of a blackbird, and over that lamp-post the rise of a kingdom describes an intention in the light of a fountain; there’s even the sunshine, a soul and the prayer. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Prairie Style Romance
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Breaths and beautiful sounds. In the amazing song of a little blackbird chanting alone in a beautiful dream I hear glimmers of magical quietness, the love for the dark and a tender idea recalling the silence. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Prairie Style Romance
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Moments of youth. The tracing fountain of an autumnal sunset lies in the plan remembering the sun, while, distantly, moments of youth fall hiding the old time of a young and feeble kiss. And the hearth seems a singing in the endless of his love. Francesco Sinibaldi – Italy Traduzione di Francesco Sinibaldi – Italy
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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The girl with golden hairs. Il tramonto rosato e a tratti silente d’incanto ritorna ove nasce un sorriso, e nel soffio dell’amato bagliore; s’odon vagare le miti atmosfere d’un tempo passato, ma tu sei nel canto, la dolce ragazza dai capelli dorati. The girl with golden hairs. The weak and delightful sunset returns, magically, where a moss-rose appears and a blast of air imagines a flower; I hear the fine atmosphere of a fabulous past, and you’re in a song, the northern girl with golden hairs….. Francesco Sinibaldi Italy
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And a thought makes a pleasure… Silently, when the sunshine presents memories and tender emotions, a little refrain returns in a delicate sadness, and then, like water in stream, remembers the youth. And that’s in my mind, amiable and sad. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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That’s Olivia / The song of your life. A romantic look, in the breath of a rising wind, and always refined, early in the morning, when the voice’s pleasure remembers a care to the chiming of the bells; that gentle footpath is the song of your life, and a beautiful sunshine describes an emotion when the sunset returns. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And a light everywhere….. The matutinal field, when the sunshine returns recalling a present and a beautiful sound, in a crying fades away, with a delicate care in the breath of a sorrow. I hear perpetual sounds of a past atmosphere, and a light everywhere, amiable and true. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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You’re my sunshine. Tenderly, when the sunset turns dark and a song disappears, a little vocalism remembers the quietness of a beautiful waterfall, and the stillness delays, like a sturdy sparrow forgetting the sun. You’re in my sunshine, and a word fades away. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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With the joy in my heart. Listening to the delicate wind, and when a loving portrait appears in the light of my heart, near a beautiful sunshine the luminous candle presents an imagine and a blazing beginning, and then, in the morning, a flame disappears. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the light he used to be…. In the light he used to be, and sometimes, like a swallow coming back on the nest’s sound, he often remembered a tender and sincere idea, the same that always returns in the night to present, in a moment, a sunny perfection. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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On the sunset I lie… In a whisper the sun’s voice presents normal concepts and sunny weepings of a romantic era, and then, like the wind in the heat of an autumnal candle, a crying overcomes, and a beauty appears in the light of your heart. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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If you were here today. ( In memory of John Lennon ) It’s easy to speak in the sunshine that never returns, remembering a pleasure, like a delicate leaf falling alone in the song of your painful heart; and when a sorrow comes back in a feeble and tender delight, I hear your image, a desolate dark while my crying overcomes. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And a beauty in the sun. A tempest returns when the light of my pleasure discovers a dream: everywhere the sun disappears, beautiful birds escape in the nest of a sweet atmosphere, and a weeping inside, a tender recall while a song fades away. http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/mbarts/F2234233?thread=3971968 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Sullen behaviour. Sullen behaviour, beautiful moment arising alone when my mind overcomes, tender idea, I see your profile in the nest of a magical darkness, and even a pleasure describes an emotion while a candle appears, recalling the faith, with tears in one’s eyes. http://pub30.bravenet.com/guestbook/2504194210 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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It’s a new day. It’s a new day, here, where the light of my sunshine appears like a soul in a springtime. It’s a wonderful day, beautiful birds escape in the valley remembering the breath of a young lullaby, and also, in the air, a tender delight discovers a pleasure. http://books.dreambook.com/tajikistan/tajikistan.html Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And always comes again… Sweet little darling, delicate candle arising alone when a fire fades away, beautiful moment, listen to me: a tender and sullen desire appears in my mind when the rain falls again, and a blackbird returns, like the song of the winter in the tears of your eyes. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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When your sun fades away… Sun, beautiful care arising alone while the candle delights, a luminous fate, tonight, comes back in a moment forgetting a pleasure and a feeble portrait : and a wonder sometimes, a crying in the air while your sun fades away… Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Reason in life. Beautiful sunset, when I touch your profile a tracing and luminous candle appears near a martin with a lovely face, and always, at the end of a day, a delicate feeling remembers to life the sound of a swallow, a beautiful care arising alone…. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the darkness, sometimes… At cock-crow, when an healthy hen overtakes, skipping and flopping the wings, near the sound of a delicate pebble, I hear a blackbird recalling the youth with a soapy short jump, and a wonder, sometimes, describes an emotion. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Crying for the moon. There’s a picture where the light of a candle, at a gulp, arrives near the jump of a beautiful answer, and always, while a barking comes back presenting a blackbird and a tender idea, my beautiful sun forsakes an illusion. http://www.forolibre.net/foro/showthread.php?t=56809 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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This is your England / Thanks Elton. Sometimes, when a lively moss-rose arrives near a pebble recalling a tern and a beautiful smile, a delicate candle extends a distraction like a gentle footpath in the crying of your feeling and then, in a perfume, the sound of a swallow returns in the air. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Speaking to the world. There’s a meadow sometimes at the end of a delicate candle, and often, when you’re speaking to the world, a line disappears regarding a pleasure to the song of the bells, that beautiful care arising alone when a voice fades away… Francesco Sinibaldi http://www.vidaribatejana.pt/show.asp?id=849&fid=18&tid=0
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Softly, in a pleasure. And always a blackbird appears in the sky like a gentle caprice in the pain of a feature; a beautiful sunset returns in the air, a crying overcomes and softly, in a dream, the light of a candle describes an emotion. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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I think, Sue… The magical sunshine arrives near a dream like a luminous darkness in a golden design; and while the sound of a blackbird appears in a pleasure remembering the youth, while a candle escapes recalling the sign of a beautiful care, when a crying overcomes, I think, Sue, there’s even a flame in the light of a sunrise…. http://forum.onet.pl/0,2,1,0,9165,31145666,84865202,uforum.html?ufSort= Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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At daybreak, playing the piano / Paul’s memory. When the light of a new morning arrives near a balcony touching sounds and delicate marvels, I hear a voice; an eternal sadness, taking care of me, invents the profile of a luminous candle, the rain fades away remembering the time of a fallen desire and then, in the sunshine, your delicate care discovers a dream….. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And always, in a similar manner… Remembering the sound of a beautiful night, and waiting for a pleasure, I see a delicate leaf arriving alone near a golden portrait ; the wind fades away, the care of a blackbird discovers a dream and always, in a similar manner, a sullen desire describes an emotion….. http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/mbarts/F2234233?thread=4281482 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Sleep, little darling. In the dead of night, while a sound disappears forgetting an answer and a beautiful care, sleep little darling; your eyes appear in the air reading aloud a delicate story, a moving profile returns in the dark, and when a line fades away describing a soul and a sullen desire, remember, alone, the light of a sunrise… Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Escaping from myself / Like a flame in the sadness. I sing in an airy morning, and I’m happy when a blackbird returns in my head describing a picture and a fallen desire; I wait for the sound of a beautiful care, and always, while a candle appears in the air with the breath of a dream, I pray to the sun, and a light disappears like a flame in a sadness… http://engforum.pravda.ru/showthread.php3?threadid=199365 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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This is the answer. In the dead of winter, when the sound of the nature arrived near a luminous care, in the darkness, I saw her with a graceful dress and a sullen behaviour; the bird ran away like a painful dreamer, a loving profile returned in a marvel and then, in a moment, a delicate wind discovered the sun: she said “let it be”, and this is the answer…… Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Only words. Like a sweet melody arising alone near the sound of a blackbird, remember, by night, and listen to me: these are only words, and so for the most part. But when the sun of the morning returns in the darkness with a delicate wind, when a sorrow arrives like a beautiful sound at the foot of the mountain, when your crying overcomes, remember, my care, there’s even a pleasure in the light of a sunrise… Francesco Sinibaldi http://www.el-informador.com/foro/viewtopic.php?t=4320
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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That’s in my mind. That’s the profile of a beautiful meadow, and that’s in my mind like a delicate leaf in the cold of the darkness; I see pleasant and tender ideas where the sound of the care arrives near a blackbird, thinking alone, like the sun in the water. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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And always, remember…. Near a waterfall, at the mercy of the wind and when a delicate leaf solicits a bird in the light of a sunrise, I see your profile; with a gentle behaviour you make a request to the sound of a sorrow, you’re praying to the sun, and when a weeping arrives on your delicate face recalling the past and a wasted sweetheart remember, my grace, and always reflect: it’s only a deception, and so it doesn't matter, there’s even the sunshine when a light fades away…. http://www.findsingapore.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=6453 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the sound sleep of a kitten. Quietness and calm when the light of a luminous candle arrives at the end of a dream, instantly, like a gentle breeze in the care of the darkness; and always a sound in its heart, a delicate eye arising alone when your crying overcomes. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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I’ll be there. Listening to the sound of a deep little brook, and going to a watering-place, a delicate care returns in my head; the wind fades away while I climb to the top of a mountain, and when a dove makes a pleasure with a beautiful flight, therefore, in a moment, a forcible voice reappears in the dark: and I’ll be there, like a light in the sunrise….. http://forum.delo.si/viewtopic.php?t=3270 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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From morning till night. At dusk, when your memory takes care of a beautiful past, a seraphic idea returns, cordially, at the end of a luminous comet; and here, without delay, an identical future describes in a candle a slender delight. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Erika here / Et ici ma lumière…. I’m happy when a passing cloud invites me to smile in the darkness of a melody, while the sunshine fades away recalling a pleasure and a delicate care; I’m glad to describe you in the light of a feeling and always, when a candle arrives, your magical dream discovers a fate….. http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/mbarts/F2234233?thread=4522950 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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The light of a fine day / Good morning Princess. ( other version ) In the dead of night, when a charming breath discovers the taste of an intense emotion, and sometimes, a magical care returns on your sensible hand, and always, Louise, like water in stream, a delicate sight reappears in the darkness….. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the darkness of a melody. There’s a leak at the end of a distant delight, and often, when a delicate line arrives in the fear of a blackbird, a tender profile invents, in a moment, the light of a sunrise, the luminous charm recalling the past. http://es.5wk.com/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=99308 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the tears of a shadow. Near the streamlet, and where a rustic fireplace remembers the sound of a countryside, I see a timid and innocent care; and besides, like the scent of a swallow, a tender bell-finger discovers a faith. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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When Paul said…. In the sound of a darkness and while a delicate wind again fades away, a magical voice appears light as a feather, and always, when a weeping willow presents the song of a blackbird and a wasted desire, I try to forget a luminous vision; that sun disappears, the care of a sadness invents the profile of a beautiful day and then, at the same time, I turn in a marvel remembering the words, when Paul said: “..and anytime you feel the pain…”. http://pub30.bravenet.com/guestbook/2504194210 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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For all the people in the world. For the sound of a gentle delight describing a candle and a loving profile, for a luminous care that now fades away leaving a flame on a delicate sadness, for a beautiful ground now forgetting a tear, and then, in the sunshine, for all the people in the world, for the song of a weeping in the light of a sunrise…. Francesco Sinibaldi http://www.poesia-creativa.it/francesco_sinibaldi4.htm
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the cold. In the cold of a darkness I see the profile of a beautiful sun, and so, when a pleasure seems a sorrow at the end of the morning, I hear the sensitive wind recalling my faith. Francesco Sinibaldi http://pub30.bravenet.com/guestbook/2504194210
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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In the dreamland. With a dray-horse that feeling arrives near the sound of a bell-glass, and under a bed a beautiful care designs the portrait of a delicate sadness: it’s a dreamland, the tender profile now recalling the past. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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A lover, the faith, a graceful desire. There’s a gracious desire where the light of a lamp, with a good grace, presents in a moment the care of a beautiful sunset, and also that dream, in a delicate candle, remembers at once a luminous lover. http://forum.mazzako.com/index.php?topic=11658.0 Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Searching for an answer. The whisper of a sibilant wind imagines, feeling the cold and when a light fades away, beautiful moments of a fearless and courageous wonder, describing a dream, and waiting for a meaning; but a weeping returns, and that’s in your mind, like a glimmer of hope and a delicate sadness recalling the past in the light of a wisdom. Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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Words of wisdom. Walking a long way in search of a feeling the snow, fallen again in the dark of a footprint, describes the profile of a sibilant hail-storm, and that fountain rejoices like an useful singing. http://messageboard.biafranigeriaworld.com/ultimatebb.cgi/ubb/get_topic/f/11/t/000026.html Francesco Sinibaldi
Posted to Why Hemingway Is Chick-Lit
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I bring you my love. Every moment I try to remember the light af an hidden report, when my memory outshines, when your love disappears.... Francesco Sinibaldi http://www.foreignpolicy.com/resources/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4970
Posted to Cold Turkey
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