Ποιηματάκια αφιερωμένα σε πχωρουμίτες/πχωρουμίτισσες

[sys3x]

The crimson summer now grows pale;
Clear, bright days now soar away;
Hazy mist spreads through the vale,
As the sleeping night turns gray;
The barren cornfields lose their gold;
The lively stream has now turned cold;
The curly woods are gray and stark,
And the heavens have grown dark.

Where are you, my light, Natasha?
No one’s seen you, – I lament.
Don’t you want to share the passion
Of this moment with a friend?
You have not yet met with me
By the pond, or by our tree,
Though the season has turned late,
We have not yet had a date.

Winter’s cold will soon arrive
Fields will freeze with frost, so bitter.
In the smoky shack, a light,
Soon enough, will shine and glitter.
I won’t see my love, – I’ll rage
Like a finch, inside a cage,
And at home, depressed and dazed,
I’ll recall Natasha’s grace.

Φοβερό! ...Παλουκώσου εκεί περα να μου γράψεις κάτι στα ελληνικά ανεπρόκοπε!!!!!!!!!!!

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Έτσι δε γάμησε κανείς μαν μου.

[Νατάσα]

Φοβερό! ...Παλουκώσου εκεί περα να μου γράψεις κάτι στα ελληνικά ανεπρόκοπε!!!!!!!!!!!

Γράψε βρε Μπιστη εσύ κάτι στα ελληνικά, αν δεν θες για μένα, γράψε για μιαν αλλην.

[Μπίστης]

Αφιερωμένο σε έναν συμφορουμίτη

Θέλω να σου πω
πόσο σ αγαπώ
ως τον ουρανό
όσο φτάνει η γη
κι άλλο πιο πολύ.

Πως χτυπάει η καρδιά
όταν σε κοιτώ
όταν σου μιλώ
ματια μου μεγάλα
μάτια μου γλυκά.

Σ' ευχαριστώ, με συγκινείς.

Δε το έγραψε για σένα μαν μου.

Δεν γίνεται να τον κάνει tag αλλά οφείλει να ανταποκριθεί ο τυπάς, ρομαντικά εννοώ ...

[Νατάσα]

The crimson summer now grows pale;
Clear, bright days now soar away;
Hazy mist spreads through the vale,
As the sleeping night turns gray;
The barren cornfields lose their gold;
The lively stream has now turned cold;
The curly woods are gray and stark,
And the heavens have grown dark.

Where are you, my light, Natasha?
No one’s seen you, – I lament.
Don’t you want to share the passion
Of this moment with a friend?
You have not yet met with me
By the pond, or by our tree,
Though the season has turned late,
We have not yet had a date.

Winter’s cold will soon arrive
Fields will freeze with frost, so bitter.
In the smoky shack, a light,
Soon enough, will shine and glitter.
I won’t see my love, – I’ll rage
Like a finch, inside a cage,
And at home, depressed and dazed,
I’ll recall Natasha’s grace.

Φοβερό! ...Παλουκώσου εκεί περα να μου γράψεις κάτι στα ελληνικά ανεπρόκοπε!!!!!!!!!!!

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Ωραίο είναι αγαπητέ, ιδίως αν έχει φέρετρα και τέτοια με φτιάχνει, αλλά γράψε κάτι δικό σου!

[Feindflug]

Φοβερό! ...Παλουκώσου εκεί περα να μου γράψεις κάτι στα ελληνικά ανεπρόκοπε!!!!!!!!!!!

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Έτσι δε γάμησε κανείς μαν μου.

[Naida]

Φοβερό! ...Παλουκώσου εκεί περα να μου γράψεις κάτι στα ελληνικά ανεπρόκοπε!!!!!!!!!!!

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Ωραίο είναι αγαπητέ, ιδίως αν έχει φέρετρα και τέτοια με φτιάχνει, αλλά γράψε κάτι δικό σου!

Τι δεν είναι δικό του; Φλούδες ελπίδες πουλάει ο τύπος.

[sys3x]

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Ωραίο είναι αγαπητέ, ιδίως αν έχει φέρετρα και τέτοια με φτιάχνει, αλλά γράψε κάτι δικό σου!

Τι δεν είναι δικό του; Φλούδες ελπίδες πουλάει ο τύπος.

Μπανανόφλουδες;

[Νατάσα]

Είμαι σε αγγλικό μουντ, τύπισσα

Alcohol is in my veins...
Tears fall as I think of you.
The true memory you left me with
Is a key to the wine of melancholy.

I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
As you Burned on that stake they burnt
My soul as well.
Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
It was not enough.

Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
The power in your eyes and yourself.
Worked for the noble in man.
Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
Pass me your unholy crafts.

I shall never forget you, the best
Of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
You never kissed the priest, you never
Drank the blood of jesus. Weird, they say -
Well, turn it upside down like you did,
And they kill, kill, and they take you away...

Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
Your resurrection is the spirit of you -
Installed in me. So now, your thougths
And your pains are my wine; and Natassja:
I'll get these goddam angels drunk...

Ωραίο είναι αγαπητέ, ιδίως αν έχει φέρετρα και τέτοια με φτιάχνει, αλλά γράψε κάτι δικό σου!

Τι δεν είναι δικό του; Φλούδες ελπίδες πουλάει ο τύπος.

Είδες; Ψευτης ντουνιάς, ψευτικα όλα. Και τα ποιήματα, γουγλαρισμένα...Ένα στα γρήγορα σου λέει...

[Gherschaagk]

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

[sys3x]

Στα λεγα εγώ μαν μου, μη λες ότι δε στα λεγα.

[Νατάσα]

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Μπράβο Γκερ, είσαι και συ ποιήτρια;

[sys3x]

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Πάει δε πάει
Ο συς εξ σας #@μάει.*

[Gherschaagk]

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Μπράβο Γκερ, είσαι και συ ποιήτρια;

Εξ' απ' ανέκαθεν Νατάσα μου.

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Πάει δε πάει
Ο συς εξ σας #@μάει.

Πότε και πού
Να δώσουμε ραντεβού.

[sys3x]

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Μπράβο Γκερ, είσαι και συ ποιήτρια;

Εξ' απ' ανέκαθεν Νατάσα μου.

Τι λέτε ρε καμένα
Για πείτε μου κι εμένα;;;

Πάει δε πάει
Ο συς εξ σας #@μάει.

Πότε και πού
Να δώσουμε ραντεβού.

Βικελίδης, ώρα εσύ.

[Gherschaagk]

Μπράβο Γκερ, είσαι και συ ποιήτρια;

Εξ' απ' ανέκαθεν Νατάσα μου.

Πάει δε πάει
Ο συς εξ σας #@μάει.

Πότε και πού
Να δώσουμε ραντεβού.

Βικελίδης, ώρα εσύ.

Ξέρω κι εγώ;

Κατά τις 6 είναι καλά;

Διαιτητής, επόπτες ποιοι;