Español

Saludos comunidad, Scholar and Scribe.

El ruiseñor llora por su alondra

La primavera anuncia aires de amor,
años privan, solo ingenio motiva,
día y noche, coros, crea el cantor,
torrente de sinfonías aviva.

Embeleso y éxtasis son sus silbatos,
artilugios perspicaces afina,
tonadas en ramillete son tratos,
persuasión letal, tentación divina.

Así el ruiseñor galantea su hembra,
brindando su energía en competencia,
buscando el éxito de lograr siembra,
potencia y constancia sin somnolencia.

Con nubes de sueños, al alba trina,
acordes influjos, en ecos viajan,
busca adrenalina sin la rutina,
anhelos con deseos lo amortajan.

El aire lisonjea una balada,
en arrumacos invade la aurora,
su alma vibra jadeante y extasiada,
palpita su corazón. Llegó la hora.

Una alondra, sacude su sentir,
presagios de amor imposible soplan,
un idilio en soledad no es vivir,
la noche no se une al día, no acoplan.

Entona el ruiseñor su desventura,
con pesar divaga en sus melodías,
llora por su alondra, con desmesura,
lamentos del alma, son agonías.

Gracias por su visita

English

Greetings community, Scholar and Scribe.

The nightingale mourns for her lark

Spring announces airs of love,
years deprive, only wit motivates,
day and night, choirs, the singer creates,
a flood of symphonies enlivens.

Rapture and ecstasy are his whistles,
shrewd contraptions he tunes,
tunes in bouquets are deals,
lethal persuasion, temptation divine.

Thus the nightingale courts his female,
giving his energy in competition,
seeking the success of his sowing,
power and constancy without drowsiness.

With clouds of dreams at dawn trine,
chord influences, in echoes, travel,
seeks adrenaline without the routine,
yearnings with desires shroud it.

The air flattering a ballad,
in a cooing invades the dawn,
her soul vibrates panting and ecstatic,
and her heart beats. The hour has come.

A lark stirs her feelings,
blows omens of impossible love,
an idyll in solitude cannot be lived,
night does not join the day, they do not come together.

The nightingale sings of his misfortune,
with sorrow, he wanders in his melodies,
cries for his lark, with immoderation,
the laments of the soul are agonies.

Thank you for your visit

_{Images generated by @marilour using Leonardo software.
It is an intellectual production created exclusively for Scholar and Scribe.
All rights reserved. September 30, 2023}