In Angola they feel prisoners political accused of any crime. They say that it is a democratic regime that it is in the middle of the joy of their functions. The democratic potencies close the eyes and they point that it is like this that it is good, that it is like this that it is made the stability in Africa. Here is the income of the terrorism of which Europe is not gotten to loosen. Who supports the corruption and their dictatorships, in the bottom it is also terrorist without the knowledge.

segunda-feira, 8 de agosto de 2011

It is one more love hymn that resumes.

The days of sun bloom and they rejuvenate the fortresses of our love. Where exists human beings, there are always some that trust the honesty of the love. Our fight, our hope, they are always the smiling springs announced in peeping of the near sparrows in our window, in the search of something for sustenance, and also, because no, of our eternal love.
The old trees contemplate us in the garden of our childhood, in the children's company that they learn how to live. Let us don't lose the hope of the days without love. To plant the love, here is our future, here is our crop. The love is the power of our secret.
The crowds are disoriented because they lost, they don't know the direction of the love, and they torture our souls. We have to get to catch the last carriage of the love, before it is late. Let us think, let us renew the gestures and the caresses of the love. There is always time to take some love sips.
When we feel bill, we verified that most of our thoughts is going to the love. To love is not to die, it is to live. The love is our army, the key of our successes.´
When I contemplate the watered fields of sun, wavy for the soft and inviting breeze, and the planting flown over by amounts of insects and birds, it is one more love hymn that resumes.

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