Look At Me
sono gli occhi tuoi dentro i miei
ne basta poco
ed ho giàcapito chi sei
che cosa cerchi tu da me
che cosa vuoi di più da me
tu vuoi quel graffio al cuore
che anch'io
fortemente vorrei...
Vorrei morire
sulle labbra rosse che hai
vorrei sentire
i tuoi seni accenndersi poi
come due piccoli vulcani
sentirli sotto le mie mani
e scivolare poi sul pendio
quello dolce che hai...
è un incontro d'anime...
La notte sembra perfetta
per consumare la vita io e te
c'è un bisogno d'amore sai
che
Belgium Native Anthem Text
The free wind has sung free songs to thy name,
Green woods caught them with friendly voices,
The sun called with its flame to a seed-time far-famed,
The stars poured faith into broken forces.
And in time of storms, troubles and mighty desires,
Thou hast budded and bloomed, long-awaited,
In a life-freshet, over the land of thy sires,
Thou hast flooded and poured, unabated.
Thou has flooded and poured, in a bright tale of life,
Through field, woodland, hill and vale streaming...
From thy native flower-copses thy crown is made bright,
Like a swan' plumage, brilliant gleaming.
Thou dost quiver and echo with songs of the bards,
Long-past years thou dost raise up and nurture,
Today's forward leap thou wouldst never retard,
Boldly facing mysterious futures.
In the sun thou goest bold, lovely flower of fire,
Gently sowing forth dreams, gold-adornéd;
Thou fearest no neighbour, though great be his ire,
Thou fearest no path briared and thorny.
From end unto end, frontier mound unto mound,
On the breezes renewal is borne now,
And, embracing the soul, without limit or bound,
Mother-joy for the better day born now.
Now there are no axes among forests green,
Felling young pine-trees in frosty winter,
Now there are no reapers from dawn to dark seen
In summer with scythes ringing, glinting.
Strength is known in the hands, without tears songs are blithe,
Desirous of glory, breasts quiver,
In their books a new law, with pens of sun-scythes,
New people are writing for ever.
Blossom them, and raise, soaring upon eagle's wing,
Souls, hearts and thoughts slumbering dully,
Awaken and forth into great spaces, bring
Strength by the witch-noose unsullied.
Send messengers forth, send unto the world's bound,
As falcon from falcon-nest winging.
Let them fly, fly away unto warriors sound,
Set the thunder of good news far-ringing.
Enough, dearest country, in field, wood and brake,
Hapless orphan, thou spendst night's long glowering,
Enough of thy heart's-blood wrong drank as a snake,
And cold winds blew, through thy bare bones scouring.
Arise from the depths, thou of falcon-born race,
O'er sires crosses, their woes, degradation,
O young Bielarus, come thou forth, take thy place
Of honour and fame among nations.
1913
Sent by Carlos André Pereira da Silva Branco