|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 9, 2008 18:27:49 GMT -5
“Ah,” I said, non committally.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 9, 2008 19:22:45 GMT -5
"You don't approve," I observed with a little amusement.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 9, 2008 19:45:00 GMT -5
“I don’t disapprove. It was just a reply of understanding,” I said.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 9, 2008 23:30:38 GMT -5
"Then where do you stand in a colourless world?" I asked.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 9, 2008 23:38:22 GMT -5
“I tend to enjoy the colors far too much to appreciate just the black and white. I live not only in grey but in all the other colors as well,” I answered.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 10, 2008 1:11:45 GMT -5
"Ah," I replied.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 10, 2008 10:41:03 GMT -5
“How very understanding,” I said, giving her a grin.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 10, 2008 19:13:07 GMT -5
"You're an artist, aren't you," I said after smiling from his quip.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 10, 2008 19:38:01 GMT -5
“I’m a musician,” I answered.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 10, 2008 20:58:42 GMT -5
I nodded. "I've yet to meet a true artist who wanted to see life in black and white."
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 10, 2008 21:19:18 GMT -5
“I guess that makes me a true artist,” I said, chuckling.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 10, 2008 23:07:43 GMT -5
"I suppose that would be the logical conclusion," I said with a teasing smile. "Or merely one criteria."
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 10, 2008 23:12:40 GMT -5
“What are the other criteria?” I asked, honestly curious as to her opinions of art and artists.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 11, 2008 2:46:49 GMT -5
"Whether they produce anything that I consider art," I replied with a wry grin as we continued down the streets. I knew where I was, but we were beginning to stray into unfamiliar territory. "Where are we going?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 11, 2008 10:54:50 GMT -5
I looked around. “I don’t know, I wasn’t heading anywhere in particular. Shall we turn around?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 11, 2008 14:03:26 GMT -5
"I think so," I replied, and we did just that, heading in a direction that would lead me home. "So what do you perform?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 11, 2008 20:27:24 GMT -5
“I play guitar and sing,” I answered. “Usually flamenco but I can do several styles.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 11, 2008 23:42:39 GMT -5
"Do you perform often?" I inquired, curious if this was just a hobby for someone who was obviously independently wealthy.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 12, 2008 0:37:47 GMT -5
“As often as I can, though sometimes it’s just for myself,” I answered.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 12, 2008 0:43:28 GMT -5
"Will you sing for me Gregoire?" I asked teasingly, though I was wondering if he actually would.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 12, 2008 0:55:06 GMT -5
I glanced at her and smiled, seeing the bit of daring in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, I began to sing.
“Mira que soy de cristal,
mira que soy de cristal,
me rompo si me caigo al suelo
y nunca me quedo igual.
La luna,
quieres coger la luna con tus manos
y esos astros son imposibles de alcanzar.
Confórmate con tenerla en tu sueño
porque a veces hasta en los sueños
es imposible alcanzarlos”
(translation:
Sight that I am of crystal,
sight that I am of crystal,
I break myself if I fall to the ground
and I remain never equal.
The moon,
you want to take the moon with your hands
and those stars are impossible to reach.
Conform with having it in your dream
because sometimes until in the dreams
it is impossible to reach them)
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 12, 2008 1:25:46 GMT -5
I knew enough Aragonian (and much more Caerdicci) to get the gist of the charming song.
"Do you normally sing that to sweet young things who still have huge dreams?" I asked with a smile. "You have a very nice voice."
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 12, 2008 12:27:41 GMT -5
“Thank you,” I said, chuckling. “As for the song, it was the first one that came to mind.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 13, 2008 4:58:37 GMT -5
"Pretty," I said with a smile. "But what about something with a bit more heartbreak?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 13, 2008 11:08:34 GMT -5
I looked at her, my head tilted slightly. “Why the interest in heartbreak?” I asked curiously.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 13, 2008 15:35:27 GMT -5
"Is it not more true to life than pretty fantasies?" I asked in return.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 13, 2008 21:41:53 GMT -5
“Is all art supposed to be about truth?” I countered.
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 13, 2008 22:25:45 GMT -5
"It should reflect truth in some way, yes," I replied.
|
|
|
|
Post by Eduardo de la Rosa on Dec 14, 2008 0:10:20 GMT -5
“Then you would like the next part of the song,” I said, smiling. then I began to sing again.
Yo soy aquel
que siempre pierde en el amor.
El que mantiene intacto el odio y el dolor.
El que pasa por la vida como cualquier ser humano.
Y estoy tan acostumbrao a perder
que cuando gano me enfado.
Y quieren saber de mí,
y quieren saber de mí,
pero de mí no sabe nadie
porque yo soy como una gota de lluvia,
como un trozo de nube,
como el cielo, como el aire.
Libre,
libre dolor rozar tu boca
sin que lo note nadie.
Cuéntame un cuento,
cuéntame un cuento
de jóvenes gitanas bailando flamenco.
Cuéntame un cuento,
cuéntame un cuento
un buchito de vino te pone content
(translation:
I am that one
that he always loses in the love.
The one that maintains hatred and the pain intact.
The one that happens through the life like any human being.
And I am so accustomed to lose
that when I win I get upset.
And they want to know of me,
and they want to know of me,
but of me nobody knows
because I am like a drop of rain,
like a cloud piece,
like the sky, the air.
It frees,
it frees pain to clear your mouth
without it notices nobody
Tell me a story,
Tell me a story
of gypsy young people dancing flamenco.
Tell me a story,
Tell me a story
a bottle of wine puts contentment to you )
|
|
|
|
Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Dec 14, 2008 0:38:32 GMT -5
I listened to his song, and the words, and the tenor of his voice. "Yes," I whispered. "That is true beauty."
|
|
