Note: Lestat and Nicolas pertenecesn 100% and more on Anne Rice, I do this din-profit, just to amuse and entertain those who like to read this. The song "Bresso" is the album "Einsamkeit" of the German band: Lacrimosa.
(I recommend you listen to the song while reading http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l27Y2tk7Ygg )
By Nerissa Leone
My last cigarette stick to my lung, my words tremble
against you
Full of hope and fear
sitting here, I see how purified.
Without love - empty and sick,
Bleeding - totally exhausted, however
your love running through my veins,
I'm not dead, no, I'm not dead,
still hear your voice speak,
still feel your lips on my skin .
Even your light shine on me, I love you still
,
still want to know,
I get closer to your soul, I lose myself completely
you,
All your beauty, all your brilliance, love
The punishment for the punishment of my love.
And now I wonder where are you?
Where are you now?
Hope crushes on my skin
Doubt
locked in my heart I feel love in my heart
Lies and strong words you hear
The clock of my life - destroyed
The memory sentence
And I still hear your loved
voice calling me I still feel your lips on my skin
your light still shines in me still I love you
back please
Please ...
Bresso (lyrics) - Lacrimosa
winter night, as every night I'm on the ledge of the window in a building that has overcome the scars of time, or at least by human hands, has remained in place since to over half a century.
Apparently this was the oldest building of Paris.
Ahhh Paris!
earthly paradise, the city of light, beauty in all its glory, even with his failed attempts at modernity, was beautiful, unique. As
. I closed my eyes
containing the desire to shed those tears treacherous and smiled, smiled cynically, trying to forget that sun and that sky, that warm light. Even
who knew that was impossible.
smiled again, feeling the cool winter wind on my face, that white snow covering everything, so I felt, a city covered over and over white snow, making insensitive every part of me, including my heart, now he was only tainted ash, wet ash to be unable to return fire burning.
Breathe deep before my feet, opening his eyes and set my sights on the beautiful picture of the cathedral of Notre Dame.
The only witness to what was and will never be.
Walk, just a couple of steps up to that rickety table, tomando mi violín, colocándolo con presteza sobre mi hombro, afinando sus cuerdas con delicadeza.
Puse el arco sobre ellas, rasgándolas levemente, comenzando a tocar, una melodía sin forma, pero que llevaba su nombre.
Lestat, el mata lobos.
Y sonreí, girando una y otra vez en aquel cuarto sin mas iluminación que las luces artificiales que provienen de los faros de la calle.
Tanta modernidad hace que uno pierda el sentido de la vida, el significado verdadero, pero…
El no, el nunca, el seguramente aun se mantenía y se mantendría en pie, luchando contra todo y todos, saliendo avante, volviendo como siempre a aquel que siempre y a pesar of bitterness, you would expect with open arms until they fled from him again.
And I would, as always ah been, with his faithful shadow.
Nicholas, The Devil's Violin.
His violinist.
My Diablo.
My Lestat.
hurt, although he never openly accepted, even as my eyes shine in those chance meetings in which I could never even suspect my existence. "I still vivo.
murmured softly, but with no real hope that I escuchara." Still I love you.
My tears burn like liquid fire, and I can not repress them, I can not but mourn to remember, to feel even your touch, your words, your scandalous way of laughing.
And the music changes, merging with me, my pain, my mistakes and my desires.
I love you ... my soul screams, looking for time in space that separates us, in that lie that we are away, that hurt us.
I hate you. Shout
my heart, and if not me or you who is complaining, but it hurts, it hurts so much love, hurts the punishment that I think I set myself and therefore I hate you and I love you.
That's the whole truth.
hate your blinding light, I hate the deep darkness in which I sank while you which high in the sky king star of hell, you being a merciful angel who stretched out his hand to the most needy, but not me ... Even
your voice shouting my name, my soul lay convicted in the deepest abyss of my hell.
Pain ... There is only pain and despair in this world where I live now and still hope to return, even in the depths of my being, I keep that little ray of light left in me before your departure. Even
I love you even want to follow blindly like a butterfly in the midst of the darkness, looking for that alo of light that guided her through the darkness.
want to die trapped in that light that blinded me, because the darkness has not been sufficient.
Music keeps ringing, being the only thing that cuts the heavy silence of the deep night of Paris.
evicted with crystalline notes, that will never die.
will remain moribund in the eternal ebb and flow of cold wind currents, searching, talking to you, whispering in your ear deaf how much I miss you ...
Please ... come back!
you say, but as always you do not understand the depth of my melody and you will continue without looking back.
and on, walking the world, playing for me, in a vain attempt to reach you.
with eternal damnation for loving and hating both the same way.
Mine, tell violin notes in pain as my tears fall slowly and they became the sole witness to my pain, staining the shiny surface of my only lover ...
My violin.
The melody rises every second, ceasing to be simple music and become a desperate cry of love, pain and hatred conjugates.
My Requiem unfinished.
My eternal sonata sounded every night until you return.
Until the night your light and let me release a new account. Listen ...
back ... please.
FIN
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