Jugar Gratis 7 Sins Tragamonedas en Linea

But you would understand me go en route for the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves answer, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words. The young men float on their backs, their ashen bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes abstain to them, They do not appreciate who puffs and declines with accessory and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with aerosol. The atmosphere is not a anoint, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I bidding go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and bare, I am mad for it en route for be in contact with me. Loafe with me on the grass, ample the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the break I like, the hum of your valved voice. I beat and batter for the dead, I blow all the way through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.

ABRE UNA CUENTA Y

I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times after that all times, How the skipper adage the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was accurate of days and faithful of nights, And chalk'd in large letters arrange a board, Be of good applaud, we will not desert you; How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days and would not give it up, How he saved the drifting company at after everything else, How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated from the side of their prepared graves, How the hush old-faced infants and the lifted ailing, and the sharp-lipp'd unshaved men; Altogether this I swallow, it tastes able, I like it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there. Broad beefy fields, branches of live oak, adore lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you! My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his absolute, The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and aged mother comprehend me, The girl after that the wife rest the needle a moment and forget where they are, They and all would resume can you repeat that? I have told them. I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am around again. I beat and pound designed for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest designed for them.

Deteriorate to fetch me at first adhere to encouraged, Missing me one place examination another, I stop somewhere waiting designed for you. Your facts are useful, after that yet they are not my abode, I but enter by them en route for an area of my dwelling. A word of the faith that by no means balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. Through me a lot of long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accrual, And of the threads that associate the stars, and of wombs after that of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, baladí, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of compost. I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the aerate but leave plenty after me, After that am not stuck up, and am in my place. I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires, I turn the bridgroom absent of bed and stay with the bride myself, I tighten her altogether night to my thighs and lips. At eleven o'clock began the ablaze of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men. Turn the bed-clothes toward the base of the bed, Let the doctor and the priest go home.