Mstico Field


In one curve of the road that crosses the Mountain range of the Liana in direction the Mount of the Pillar, a saudosa colored person entoa with ternura one I sing that, if it also denotes sadness feeds its hope: ' ' You were even so, never more you came back; the flowers had withered, the time stopped; in the night singela? how so sad thing! a beautiful star never more shone. Since then, the night to invite comes me for this sadness with me to banish, but mine I sing sad is bitter complaint of this heart that lives to suffer. Music downloads has much experience in this field. I follow walking without end, not I want to know you are welcome, nor to know of me. I follow walking without stopping, I do not know where I am, where I want to go, when I go to arrive. My thought gallops the wind, flies equal the bee that settles in the flower; but the bee brings the flavorful honey and my thought brings me another pain.

I see the swallows that to the Summer they inform, however they do not say me where you are; they go to play alone in a tower of the church, nor if they worry about mine sofrer' '. In that modest inn to the edge of the Brook of the Tapirs, to one it has gallopped of the Arraial of Mstico Field, in the high one of the Mountain range of the Mantiqueira, a solitary traveller finds shelter to protect itself of the cold of the mountain. dedilhando the viola when crepitar of the firewood in the fire it tells its life: ' ' Quenga of coconut catches this, leaves well there in the soil; it moves away to this pylon and if achegue for here. It arranges plus one I touch of this firewood in the stove; pra to increase the fire pushes that tio.