Ángel de luz - Hive Music Festival Semana Nº207 - Ronda 3 (esp/eng)

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https://play.3speak.tv/embed?v=josueelinfame/repmh7jz

Saludos amigos, estoy de vuelta en esta nueva semana de Hive Music Festival y me presento con un tema que disfruto mucho, Ángel de luz, un pasillo que transmite mucho sentimiento, espero sea de si agrado.

Este actividad es organizado por @musiczone y este es el post, para que puedan unirse.

Greetings, friends! I’m back for this new week of the Hive Music Festival, and I’m sharing a song I really enjoy: "Ángel de Luz." It is a pasillo that conveys deep emotion, and I hope you enjoy it.

This activity is organized by @musiczone and this is the post, so you can join.

Ángel de luz, de aromas y de nieves
Cruzo tus labios, con flores de ambrosía
Tus pupilas, románticas auroras
Que en oriente serán el albo día

Dentro tu pecho guardas conciertos de notas
Perfumes de nardos, de flores de albor
Mi pecho es un sepulcro de rosas marchitas
Anima esas flores con besos de amor

Reina de lirios, en tus rizadas trenzas
Nido de seda, do duermen las camelos
Deja que pose mis glaciares labios
Que están enfermos por falta de tu amor

Los labios que no besan, son pétalos muertos
Son himnos sin notas, son astros sin luz
Los pechos que no aman, son noches polares
Sarcófagos tristes do alberga el dolor

Dentro tu pecho guardas conciertos de notas
Perfumes de nardos, de flores de albor
Mi pecho es un sepulcro de rosas marchitas
Anima esas flores con besos de amor

Letra

Angel of light, of scents and of snows,
I brush your lips with blossoms of ambrosia;
Your eyes—romantic dawns—
That in the east shall become the bright day.

Within your breast, you hold symphonies of notes,
Perfumes of nard and blossoms of white;
My breast is a tomb of withered roses—
Bring those flowers to life with kisses of love.

Queen of lilies, in your braided tresses—
A silken nest where camellias slumber—
Let me rest my lips, cold as glaciers,
Ailing for want of your love.

Lips that do not kiss are dead petals,
Hymns without notes, stars without light;
Breasts that do not love are polar nights,
Sad sarcophagi harboring sorrow.

Within your breast, you hold symphonies of notes,
Perfumes of nard and blossoms of white;
My breast is a tomb of withered roses—
Bring those flowers to life with kisses of love.

josueelinfame.jpg


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