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I enjoy how they translate poems, leaving in the original the words the software can't translate...sometimes it creates its own poetry.  Maybe it's how it doesn't reconstruct the grammar.

BELLA

Bella,
como en la piedra fresca
del manantial, el agua
abre un ancho relámpago de espuma,
así es la sonrisa en tu rostro,
bella.

Bella,
de finas manos y delgados pies
como un caballito de plata,
andando, flor del mundo,
así te veo,
bella.

Bella
con un nido de cobre enmarañado
en tu cabeza, un nido
color de miel sombría
donde mi corazón arde y reposa,
bella.

Bella,
no te caben los ojos en la cara,
no te caben los ojos en la tierra.
Hay países, hay ríos,
en tus ojos,
mi patria está en tus ojos,
yo camino por ellos,
ellos dan luz al mundo
por donde yo camino,
bella.

Bella,
tus senos son como dos panes hechos
de tierra cereal y luna de oro,
bella.

Bella,
tu cintura
la hizo mi brazo como un río cuando
pasó mil años por tu dulce cuerpo,
bella.

Bella,
No hay nada como tus caderas,
tal vez la tierra tiene
en algún sitio oculto
la curva y el aroma de tu cuerpo,
tal vez en algún sitio,
bella.

Bella, mi   bella,
tu voz, tu piel, tus uñas,
bella, mi bella,
tu ser, tu luz, tu sombra,
bella,
todo eso es mío, bella,
todo eso es mío, mía,
cuando andas o reposas,
cuando cantas o duermes,
cuando sufres o sueñas,
siempre,
cuando estás cerca o lejos,
siempre,
eres mía, mi bella,
siempre.

BEAUTIFUL

Beautiful,
like in the fresh stone
of the spring, the water
opens a wide foam lightning,
thus is the smile in your face,
beautiful.

Beautiful,
of fine hands and thin feet
like a silver pony,
walking, flower of the world,
therefore I see you,
beautiful.

Beautiful
with a copper nest entangled
in your head, a nest
color of shady honey
where my heart burns and rests,
beautiful.

Beautiful,
the eyes in the face do not fit to you,
do not fit the Earth eyes to you.
There are countries, there are rivers,
in your eyes,
my mother country is in your eyes,
I walk by them,
they give light to the world
by where I walk,
beautiful.

Beautiful,
your sines are like two breads
done of earth gold cereal and moon,
beautiful.

Beautiful,
your waist
made my arm like a river when
it spent thousand years through your sweet body, beautiful.

Beautiful,
There is nothing like your hips,
the perhaps Earth
somewhere has hidden
the curve and the aroma of your body,
perhaps somewhere
beautiful.

Beautiful, my beautiful,
your voice, your skin, your nails,
beautiful, my beautiful,
your being, your light, your shade,
beautiful,
all that is mine, beautiful,
all that is mine, mine,
when you walk or you rest,
when you sing or you sleep,
when you suffer or you dream,
always,
when you are close or far,
always,
you are mine, my beautiful one,
always.

Bad for essays, though.

Don't fight forces, use them R. Buckminster Fuller.

by rg (leopold dot lepster at google mail dot com) on Mon Jan 22nd, 2007 at 01:15:45 PM EST
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