Jul 9, 2007 | Posted by: roboblogger
Full story: Des Moines Register![]()
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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. |
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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. |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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. |
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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 http://slovensko.com/forum/read.php... Thanks Dallas. |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 http://forums.mirror.co.uk/viewtopic.php... |
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Joined: Apr 6, 2007 Comments: 67 AOL |
Beautiful.....
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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 Thanks Dallas |
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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 |
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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 http://boards.vanityfair.com/thread.jspa... |
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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 |
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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 From Italy to friends of Dallas. http://www.nacional.hr/forum/view/1635/ |
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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 http://www.novedadesanalitica.com/forum/forum... |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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