Sur les ailes de l’Amour, Rêve de Colombes insatisfaites…

Mes mots sont vents sur l’étendue bleue d’un songe insatisfait. Si j’étais Colombe, je pleurerais sur la descente de la Rouach…

How can u just leave me standing?

Alone in a world that’s so cold? (So cold)

Maybe I’m just 2 demanding

Maybe I’m just like my father 2 bold

Maybe you’re just like my mother

She’s never satisfied (She’s never satisfied)

Why do we scream at each other

This is what it sounds like

When doves cry

Touch if u will my stomach

Feel how it trembles inside

You’ve got the butterflies all tied up

Don’t make me chase u

Even doves have pride

PRINCE – When Doves Cry

MERCUTIO O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders’ legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider’s web, The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight, O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees, O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep, Then dreams, he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she–

ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.

MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

MERCUTIO I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Shakespear – Romeo and Juliette.

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Spartakus Freemann

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