Weibliche Männer sind cool - 500 Beiträge pro Seite

[bellabimba]

In der Mode jedenfalls schreitet die Feminisierung munter voran. Als besonders cool gelten in diesem Sommer Farben, die man bisher eher mit Barbiepuppen und Babywäsche in Verbindung brachte: Pink, Rosa und Korallenrot. Der pinkfarbene Schlips, vor kurzem noch Insignie des Provinzspießers, gilt nun als Ausdruck von Lockerheit und guter Laune.
Egal wie...I LOV E YOU.....

[wellen]

Wüßte nicht was an diesem Vogel besonders cool oder gutaussehend sein sollte.

Wer das behauptet leidet wohl unter Geschmacksverirrung.

[Aktienbraut]

ich versteh ja wenn dir Hugh Grant gefällt aber der sieht echt schwuchtlig aus

[Kabbes]

also für mich sieht der aus, wie ein Bauarbeiter, der sich als Frau verkleidet hat ...

[bellabimba]

Tja..mein lieber ..wir frauen sind mal halt etwas umberechenbar...was David anbetrifft..liegt seine charme vielleicht an die 2karatige Ohrringe????

[bellabimba]

Der Metrosexual, ein Männertyp mit ausgeprägtem Hang zu weiblichem Konsumverhalten, ist kein Saisonphänomen.
Ist wirklich so..ich sehe immer mehr von der sorte...in England sowieso...

[greatmr]

liegt seine charme vielleicht an die 2karatige Ohrringe????

genau das ist es

der junge sie ganz gut aus, aber wichtiger ist: er hat einfach geld - was daran aber so unberechenbar sein soll, dass (manche) frauen auf männer mit viel geld stehen....

[nocherts]

[bellabimba]

#7
Manche Frauen??? Alle Frauen ...mich eingeschloßen lieben schönen Männer mit geld!!!
So easy´s that!!!

[RealJoker]

#bellabimba,

und erst recht häßliche alte Männer mit Geld ...

Aber es gibt eine männliche Waffe, um geldgeile Frauen auszusortieren ... redet einfach mal darüber, wie toll doch ein Ehevertrag ist.....

[bellabimba]

#10
Ehevertag??? Viele männer trauen sich nicht den thema anzusprechen..wie beleidigend ist es für eine frau
Aber hier gehts nicht um männer mit geld..sondern um den metrosexuelle männertyp..mit geld ..oder ohne... hat mehr chancen bei frauen als machos oder ähnliches...bei mir sowieso.

Ciao

[Die_Charlatanin]

Das ist Beckams teil,just etwas olivenöl ein schuss weisswein und etwas tomaten soße ,ein wenig sahne,und mmmmmmhhhhh schmeckt himmlisch

[bellabimba]

#12
Ach ...wie ekelhaft (asqueroso)...Gehört das ding einem Strauss???

[grobschnitt]

Es sollte jedem Mann klar sein, warum weibliche Männer bzw. neudeutsch Metrosexuelle sehr gut beim weiblichen Geschlecht ankommen.

SIE SIND SCHLICHT UND EINFACH GEPFLEGT!!!

[greatmr]

wenn ich mir das bild dieses mannes in nr. 1 mit stoppelbart und fettigen haaren ansehe, hast du mit der "gepflegt"-sein-theorie 100%ig recht

[IgnatzWrobel]

Ach, jetzt seh ich erst das es David ist..


....und ich dachte schon es wäre Elke Heidenreich - als Mann verkleidet

[jojobada]

Habe kein Geld, aber schreibe Gedichte und Geschichten!

mfg jojobada

[jojobada]

bellabimba mein Morgenstern, wie alle
Frauen küsst auch du und posierst auch
gern.

bellabimba wenn ich dich so anschaue,
dann werde ich vor Fleischeslust nach
dir - immer blinder.

Wolllust steigt in mir auf, dein Körper meine
Seele streift, in mir drin ist es schon ganz heiß.

bellabimba geb mir eine Chance, dann mach
ich dir viele Kinder.

bellabimba, gewartet habe ich ein halbes
Leben auf dich, jetzt halt ich dich fest
und du auch mich.

bellabimba, sicherlich wünscht auch du die
Kinder!?.

Kinder sind unser ganzes Leben, auch die
Liebe bin ich bereit dir zu geben.

bellabimba, warte auf dich solang es geht,
auch wenn du wieder fliehst, ist es für
eine Rückkehr nie zu spät.

bellabimba, halten unsere Hände ein
Leben lang, in uns beiden der Liebe drang.

bellabimba, alt sind wir zusammen geworden,
aber unsere Liebe lebt weiter, auch wenn wir
gestorben.

MfG jojobada

[jojobada]

sorry

bellabimba, sicherlich wünscht auch du dir
viele Kinder!?.

[bellabimba]

Oh..Jojobada ..que linda esta poesia..linda de verdad.. te quiero mucho...Yo tanbíen te cuento una storia muy bella..in engles pero..ok?

The Nightingale and the Rose

SHE said that she would dance with me if l brought her a red rose cried the Student; `but in all my gar-den there is no red rose.`
From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
`No red rose in all my garden!` he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. `Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! l have read all that the wise have written, and all the secrets of philos-ophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.`
`Here at last is a true lover/ said the Nightingale. `Night after night l have sung of him, though l did not know him: night after night l told his story to the stars, and now l see him. His hair is as dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon h/5 brow.`
The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,` mur-mured the young Student, `my love will be of the Company. If l bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If l bring her a red rose, l shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so l shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will not notice me, and my heart will break.`
`Here indeed is the true lover/ said the Nightin-gale. `What l sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it found in the market-place. It may not be pur-chased from merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.`
The musicians will sit in their gallery/ said the young Student/ and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, l have no red rose to give her;` and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
`Why is he weeping?` asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
`Why, indeed?` said a Butterfly, fluttering about after a sunbeam.
`Why, indeed?` whispered a Daisy to his neigh-bour, in a soft voice.
`He is weeping for a red rose/ said the Nightin-gale.
`For a red rose!` they cried; `how ridiculous!` and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student`s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass-plot was Standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are white/ it answered; `as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow on the mountain.

Fortsetzung folgt ..if you want...mein lieber jojobada...

[jojobada]

Die Nachtigall und die Rose SIE sagte, daß sie mit mir tanzen würde, wenn L sie holte, die eine rote Rose der Kursteilnehmer schrie; `but in meinem ganzem Garten dort ist kein rotes rose.` Von ihrem Nest in der Eiche schaute der Baum, den die Nachtigall ihn und sie hörte, heraus durch die Blätter und wunderte sich. `No Rot stieg in mein ganzes garden!` er schrie und seine schönen Augen füllten mit Rissen. `Ah, davon welche kleine Sachen Glück tut, hängen ab! L haben alle gelesen, die die klugen geschrieben haben, und alle Geheimnisse der Philosophie sind meine, dennoch mangels eine Rotrose wird mein Leben wretched.` gebildet; `Here schließlich ist ein zutreffendes Geliebtes sagte die Nachtigall. `Night nach Nacht L haben von ihm gesungen, obwohl L ihn nicht kannte: Nacht nach Nacht L erklärte seine Geschichte zu den Sternen, und jetzt sehen L ihn. Sein Haar ist so dunkel wie die Hyazinthe-Blüte, und seine Lippen sind als stiegen von seinem Wunsch rot; aber Neigung hat sein Gesicht wie Lattenelfenbein gebildet, und sorge hat ihre Dichtung nach h/5 brow.` eingestellt; Der Prinz gibt eine Nacht der Kugel morgen, ` chte der junge Kursteilnehmer, `my Liebe ist von der Firma raus. Wenn L sie holen, die ein Rotes sie tanzt mit mir bis Dämmerung stieg. Wenn L ihr rotes Rose holen, hält L sie in meinen Armen, und sie lehnt ihren Kopf nach meiner Schulter, und ihre Hand wird in meinen umklammert. Aber es gibt stieg in meinen Garten kein Rotes, also sitzt L einsames, und sie führt mich vorbei. Sie beachtet nicht mich und meinen Herzwillen break.` `Here ist in der Tat das zutreffende Geliebte sagte die Nachtigall. `What L singen von ihm leidet: was Freude zu mir ist, zu ihm sind die Schmerz. Sicher ist Liebe eine wundervolle Sache. Sie ist kostbarer als Smaragde und lieber als feine Opale. Perlen und Granatäpfel können nicht sie kaufen, noch ist sie fand im Markt. Sie kann möglicherweise nicht von den Kaufleuten gekauft werden, noch kann sie in der Balance für gold.` ausgewogen werden; Die Musiker sitzen in ihrer Galerie sagten, daß der junge Kursteilnehmer und meine Liebe zum Ton der Harfe und der Violine tanzen. Sie tanzt so leicht ihre Füße berührt nicht den Fußboden. Aber mit mir tanzt sie nicht, L hat kein Rotes stieg, um her;` zu geben; und er schleuderte sich niederwirft auf dem Gras und begrub sein Gesicht in seinen Händen und weinte. `Why ist er weeping?` fragte eine kleine grüne Eidechse, da er hinter ihn mit seinem Endstück in der Luft lief. `Why, indeed?` sagte einen Schmetterling und flatterte ungefähr nach einem Sunbeam. `Why, indeed?` flüsterte ein Gänseblümchen zu seinem Nachbar, in einer weichen Stimme. `He weint für eine rote Rose sagte die Nachtigall. `For ein rotes rose!` sie schrieen; `how ridiculous!` und die kleine Eidechse, die etwas eines Zynikers war, lachte völlig. Aber die Nachtigall verstand das Geheimnis der Student`s sorge, und sie saß leises im Eiche-Baum und dachte an das Geheimnis der Liebe. Plötzlich verbritt sie ihre braunen Flügel und stieg in die Luft an. Sie überschritt durch die Waldung wie einen Schatten, und wie ein Schatten segelte sie über den Garten. In der Mitte von Gras-plotten Sie stand einen schönen Rose-Baum, und als sie ihn sah, flog sie rüber zu ihm und beleuchtete nach einem Spray. `Give ich, den ein Rotes sie stieg, schrie, `and L singt Ihnen mein süssestes song.` `My Rosen sind es antworteten weiß; `as Weiß als der Schaumgummi des Meeres und Weißerer als der Schnee auf dem Berg.

[bellabimba]

Oh Jojo..hast mit ne übersetzungsprogramm übersetzt..manche sätze sind net rightig übersetzt..wobei in englisch klingt so schön..
Aber...du verstehst aus dem englisch ..oder?

[jojobada]

ja liebe bellabimba,

aber ist doch nur für die,
die es nicht verstehen!

MfG jojobada

Sehr nett von Dir!

[WilmaFlintstone]

mas blanco ... Clementine wird`s euch danken.

[WilmaFlintstone]

[bellabimba]

Weiss ich nicht was dieser fetten sack da unten soll...wären alle männer so...na ja...we want continue mit unsere geschichte Über das geheimnis der liebe...

But go to my brother who grows round the old sundial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are yellow/ it answered; `as yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sits on an amber throne, and more yellow than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student`s window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student`s window.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are red/ it answered, `as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and l shall have no roses at all this year.`
`One red rose is all l want/ cried the Nightingale, `only one red rose! Is there no way l can get it?`
There is a way/ answered the Tree; `but it is so terrible l dare not teil you.`
Teil it to me/ said the Nightingale, `l am not afraid.`
`If you want a red rose/ said the Tree, `you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart`s-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.`
`Death is a very great price to pay for a red rose/ cried the Nightingale, `and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill.

Fortsetzung folgt

[Die_Charlatanin]

Schöne geschichte,geht auch in Deutsch? Verstehe nicht alles

[bellabimba]

Hier die 2 teile zusammengefasst...fehlt noch 1 teil..aber jojo will "the mistery of love" nicht wissen..

The Nightingale and the Rose

SHE said that she would dance with me if l brought her a red rose cried the Student; `but in all my gar-den there is no red rose.`
From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
`No red rose in all my garden!` he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. `Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! l have read all that the wise have written, and all the secrets of philos-ophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.`
`Here at last is a true lover/ said the Nightingale. `Night after night l have sung of him, though l did not know him: night after night l told his story to the stars, and now l see him. His hair is as dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon h/5 brow.`
The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,` mur-mured the young Student, `my love will be of the Company. If l bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If l bring her a red rose, l shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so l shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will not notice me, and my heart will break.`
`Here indeed is the true lover/ said the Nightin-gale. `What l sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it found in the market-place. It may not be pur-chased from merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.`
The musicians will sit in their gallery/ said the young Student/ and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, l have no red rose to give her;` and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
`Why is he weeping?` asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
`Why, indeed?` said a Butterfly, fluttering about after a sunbeam.
`Why, indeed?` whispered a Daisy to his neigh-bour, in a soft voice.
`He is weeping for a red rose/ said the Nightin-gale.
`For a red rose!` they cried; `how ridiculous!` and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student`s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass-plot was Standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are white/ it answered; `as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow on the mountain.
But go to my brother who grows round the old sundial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are yellow/ it answered; `as yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sits on an amber throne, and more yellow than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student`s window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student`s window.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are red/ it answered, `as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and l shall have no roses at all this year.`
`One red rose is all l want/ cried the Nightingale, `only one red rose! Is there no way l can get it?`
There is a way/ answered the Tree; `but it is so terrible l dare not teil you.`
Teil it to me/ said the Nightingale, `l am not afraid.`
`If you want a red rose/ said the Tree, `you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart`s-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.`
`Death is a very great price to pay for a red rose/ cried the Nightingale, `and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill.

[bellabimba]

Ach hatte vergessen...
#27, ne ..geht leider nicht ..mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut um genau zu übersetzen...würde viel zeit im aspruch nehmen..sorry...

[bellabimba]

Hey..what`s up..leute..versteht ihr kein englisch?

[serafino]

and further?
Now are curious

[bellabimba]

Ah..here`s someone who`s interested in it..and wonna know .."the mistery of love".
Ok..my friend ..be careful..then the end isn`t easy to understand...

Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?`
So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not dry in his beautiful eyes.
`Be happy,` cried the Nightingale, `be happy; you shall have your red rose, l will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart`s-blood. All l ask is that you will be a true lover.` The Student looked up from the grass, and lis-tened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written in books.
But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
`Sing me one last song,` he whispered; `l shall feel very lonely when you are gone.`
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song the Student got up, and went to his room, and lay down on his pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, fell asleep.
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale at first, as the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale `Press closer, little Nightingale, or Day will come before the rose is finished.`
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song.

Fortsetzung folgt ..Serafino...

[jojobada]

Hallo bellabimba,

sory aber ich mag Dich, aber um mich herum sind soviele Kinder!

MfG jojo

[omnl]

also... ich muss matze recht geben in #7.

#9 zum teil hast du recht.
geld ist wichtig und beruhigt ungemein.
was schön ist... ist bekanntlich geschmacksache.
mir persönlich gefällt #1 nicht... denn sein gesicht ist mir zu schmalzig und gewöhnlich.

nur was hilft dir der schönste und reichste mann....
wenn er ein depp ist?

alles was man sich mit geld kaufen kann ist ersetzbar.
äußerliche schönheit ist vergänglich.

[bellabimba]

Ja Omni ..schon recht ..hier geht es aber nicht um Männer mit geld ..wie ich schon bei#11 geschrieben habe...sondern um den Metrosexuelle(was für nen bezeichnung)Männertyp..und auch um das geheimniss der liebe...Kannst du aus dem Englisch lesen???

Ciao

[omnl]

mein englisch ist nicht so gut.

[bellabimba]

Schade ..dann breuchten wir jemanden der es übersetzen könnte..ich kann es leider nicht ..oder begrenzt halt...sorry

[omnl]

montag ist mein übersetzer wieder online.

[jojobada]

Ah..here`s jemand who`s, das an it..and wonna interessiert wird, kennen.." das mistery von love" . Ok..my Freund..be careful..then das Ende isn`t einfach zu verstehen... Dennoch ist Liebe besser als das Leben, und was das Herz eines Vogels ist, der mit dem Herzen eines man?` verglichen wird; So verbritt sie ihre braunen Flügel für Flug und stieg in die Luft an. Sie fegte über dem Garten wie einem Schatten, und wie ein Schatten segelte sie durch die Waldung. Der junge Kursteilnehmer lag noch auf dem Gras, in dem sie ihn gelassen hatte, und die Risse waren nicht in seinen schönen Augen trocken. `Be glücklich, ` schrie die Nachtigall, glückliches `be; Sie haben Ihr rotes Rose, errichtet L es aus Musik heraus durch Mondschein und befleckt es mit meinem eigenen heart`s-blood. Alles L bitten ist, daß Sie ein zutreffendes lover.` sind; Der Kursteilnehmer schaute oben vom Gras, und gehört, aber er könnte nicht verstehen, was die Nachtigall zu ihm sagte, denn er kannte nur die Sachen, die in Bücher geschrieben werden. Aber der Eiche-Baum, der verstanden wurde, und fühlte traurig, denn er war in die kleine Nachtigall vernarrt, die ihr Nest in seinen Niederlassungen errichtet hatte. `Sing ich ein letztes Lied, ` er flüsterte; `l fühlt sehr einsam, wenn Sie gone.` sind; So sang die Nachtigall zum Eiche-Baum, und ihre Stimme war wie das Wasser, das von einem silbernen Glas sprudelt. Als sie ihr Lied der aufgestandene Kursteilnehmer beendet und zu seinem Raum ging hatte und auf seinem Ladeplatte-Bett niederlegt und anfing, an seine Liebe zu denken; und, nach einer Zeit, fiel schlafend. Und wenn der Mond geglänzt in den Himmeln, welche die Nachtigall zum Rose-Baum flog und stellen Sie ihre Brust gegen den Dorn ein. Alle lange Nacht sang sie mit ihrer Brust gegen den Dorn, und der kalte Kristallmond lehnte sich unten und hörte. Alle lange Nacht sang sie, und der Dorn ging tiefer und tiefer und ihr Herzblut ebbed weg von ihr. Und auf dem obersten Spray des Rose-Baums blühten erstaunliches Rose, Blumenblatt nach Blumenblatt, als Lied gefolgtes Lied. Pale anfangs, als der Nebel, der über dem Fluß hängt - pale als die Füße des Morgens und Silber als die Flügel der Dämmerung. Als der Schatten von stieg in einen Spiegel des Silbers, als der Schatten von stieg in eine Wasser-Lache, war so stieg das blühte auf dem obersten Spray des Baums. Aber der Baum schrie zur genaueren Nachtigall `Press, kleine Nachtigall, oder Tag kommt, bevor die Rose finished.` ist; So betätigte sich die Nachtigall nahe gegen den Dorn und louder und wuchs louder ihr Lied.

[serafino]

Hola Bellabimba

[bellabimba]

Holá Serafino..que tal?
Fassen wir zusammen mal...

The Nightingale and the Rose

SHE said that she would dance with me if l brought her a red rose cried the Student; `but in all my gar-den there is no red rose.`
From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
`No red rose in all my garden!` he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. `Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! l have read all that the wise have written, and all the secrets of philos-ophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.`
`Here at last is a true lover/ said the Nightingale. `Night after night l have sung of him, though l did not know him: night after night l told his story to the stars, and now l see him. His hair is as dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon h/5 brow.`
The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,` mur-mured the young Student, `my love will be of the Company. If l bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If l bring her a red rose, l shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so l shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will not notice me, and my heart will break.`
`Here indeed is the true lover/ said the Nightin-gale. `What l sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it found in the market-place. It may not be pur-chased from merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.`
The musicians will sit in their gallery/ said the young Student/ and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, l have no red rose to give her;` and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
`Why is he weeping?` asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
`Why, indeed?` said a Butterfly, fluttering about after a sunbeam.
`Why, indeed?` whispered a Daisy to his neigh-bour, in a soft voice.
`He is weeping for a red rose/ said the Nightin-gale.
`For a red rose!` they cried; `how ridiculous!` and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student`s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass-plot was Standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are white/ it answered; `as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow on the mountain.
But go to my brother who grows round the old sundial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are yellow/ it answered; `as yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sits on an amber throne, and more yellow than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student`s window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.`
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student`s window.
`Give me a red rose/ she cried, `and l will sing you my sweetest song.`
`My roses are red/ it answered, `as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and l shall have no roses at all this year.`
`One red rose is all l want/ cried the Nightingale, `only one red rose! Is there no way l can get it?`
There is a way/ answered the Tree; `but it is so terrible l dare not teil you.`
Teil it to me/ said the Nightingale, `l am not afraid.`
`If you want a red rose/ said the Tree, `you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart`s-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.`
`Death is a very great price to pay for a red rose/ cried the Nightingale, `and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill.
Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?`
So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not dry in his beautiful eyes.
`Be happy,` cried the Nightingale, `be happy; you shall have your red rose, l will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart`s-blood. All l ask is that you will be a true lover.` The Student looked up from the grass, and lis-tened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written in books.
But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
`Sing me one last song,` he whispered; `l shall feel very lonely when you are gone.`
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song the Student got up, and went to his room, and lay down on his pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, fell asleep.
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale at first, as the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale `Press closer, little Nightingale, or Day will come before the rose is finished.`
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song.

Noch ein stück und ist sie fertig...
Tja jojo mit übersetzensoftare..klingt nicht gut...der kursteilnehmer...na ja...

Ciao

[Brueller]

bekomme ich auch eine Rose

[serafino]

Bellabimba

But why you repeat it?

[Fuller81]

bellabimba es una hermosa chica Quiero tener un niño de ella.

[bellabimba]

Brueller.. ya claro..recibes una rosa...tanbíen mi corazon...

[Brueller]

Danke

ich glaub, ich bin ein sehr weiblicher Mann

wenn ich nicht einen Henkel hätte, dann...

[serafino]

Bellabimba


Then! You have forgotten to write the end of the novel?

O tu no ha pensado a nosotros novela?

hacelo bien

[bellabimba]

Ah..si?? Nein ..habs net vergessen..hab den eindruck daß ..keiner ist wirklich über die liebe interessiert...die meisten menschen verstehen es sowieso net...Anyway ..dann schreibe ich halt für dich die geschichte zu ende...

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bride-groom when he kisses the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose`s heart re-mained white, for only a Nightingale`s heart`s-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
And the Tree cried to the Nightingale `Press closer, little Nightingale, or Day will come before the rose is finished.`
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, wilder, wilder grew her song.
And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson äs a ruby the heart.
But the Nightingale`s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she feit something choking in her throat.
She gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard i`t, and she forgot the dawn, and lin-gered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and trembled all over in ecstasy, and opened her petals to the cold morning air.
`Look, look!` cried the Tree, `the rose is finished now;` but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.
`Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!` he cried; `a red rose! l have never seen any rose like it in all my life. and he leaned down and plucked it.
Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Profes-sor`s house with the rose in his hand.
The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.
`You said you would dance with me if l brought you a red rose,` cried the Student. `Here is the red-dest rose in all the world.
You will wear it to-night next to your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how l loveyou.`
But the girl frowned.

`l am afraid, `she answered,` it will not go with my dress/ besides, the Chamberlain`s nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows jewels cost far more than flowers.`
`Well, my word, you are ungrateful,` said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it feil into the gutter, and a cartwheel went over it.
`Ungrateful!` said the girl. `l tell you what, you are very rüde; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, l don`t believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain`s nephew has;` and she got up from her chair and went into the house.
`What a silly thing Love is,` said the Student as he walked away. `It is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpracti-cal. l shall go back to Philosophy.`
So he returned to bis room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.

So...bin gespannt...

[serafino]

Bellabimba
You have post

[serafino]

Beautifulchild
I thank you much for the beautiful narration over the love!
Schöne Grüße aus dem Indischen Ocean !
Bellabimba hacelo bien