Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder That the clinging of the bells blew far into the breeze Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind An' the poet an the painter far behind his rightful time An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing. Bob Dylan
4 comments:
T'es d'accord que c'est moche la photo !
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An' the poet an the painter far behind his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Bob Dylan
je la trouve pas moche moi..7didane, tu te faufiles partt dis moi..:))
bisouilles nejnouja
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