martes, 17 de julio de 2012

Black, Red, White

Got woken in the night
by a mystical golden light,
my head soaked in river water.
The smell of redwood giant.
A banquet for the shadows.
Horse and I, 
we're dancers in the dark.

And they sang to me, this is yours to wear...
You're the chosen one, there's no turning back.


(Bat for Lashes, Horse and I)

era árida
como la sangre y la tormenta.

El blanco al alba.
El rojo al amanecer.

Y el negro…

A veces
(y sólo a veces)
cree que aún puede oler la escoba plateada.

was arid
like the blood and the storm.

The white one at dawn.
The red one at daybreak.

And the black one…

(and only sometimes)
she thinks that she can still smell the silvery broom.

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