Recueda
de Igino Ugo Tarchetti
Cuando bese tu labio aromático,
Estimada señorita, no puedo olvidar
Que un cráneo blanco está escondido debajo de él.
Cuando me aferro a tu elegante cuerpo,
No puedo olvidar, querida niña,
Que hay un esqueleto escondido debajo de él.
Y en la horrible visión absorbida.
Dondequiera que me toques o me beses o me tomes la mano,
Los huesos fríos de los muertos se destacan.
๑۞๑ Related:๑۞๑
† Poetry
~ Spanish vampiric poetry
† Short Stories
Memento
by Igino Ugo Tarchetti
When I kiss your sweet lips,
Dear girl, I cannot forget
That a white skull is concealed beneath you.
When your lovely body shakes on mine,
I cannot forget, dear girl,
That beneath you a skeleton is hiding.
And engrossed in the hideous view,
Everywhere you touch, or kiss, or place your hand,
I can feel cold bones protrude, like from a dead man.
๑۞๑ Related:๑۞๑
† Poetry
† Short Stories
Memento
di Igino Ugo Tarchetti
Quando bacio il tuo labbro profumato,
Cara fanciulla, non posso obbliare
Che un bianco teschio vi è sotto celato.
Quando a me stringo il tuo corpo vezzoso,
Obbliar non poss’io, cara fanciulla,
Che vi è sotto uno scheletro nascoso.
E nell’orrenda visione assorto.
Dovunque o tocchi, o baci, o la man posi,
Sento sporger le fredde ossa di un morto.
๑۞๑ Related:๑۞๑
† Poetry
~ Italian vampiric poetry
† Short Stories
Denke daran
de Igino Ugo Tarchetti
Wenn ich deine duftenden Lippe küsse,
Liebes Mädchen, kann ich nicht vergessen
Dass ein weißer Schädel darunter versteckt ist.
Wenn ich deinen hübschen Körper nahe an mich halte,
Kann ich nicht vergessen, liebes Mädchen
Dass sich darunter ein Skelett verbirgt
Und in schrecklich vertiefter Sichtweise spüre ich,
Wo immer du mich berührst, küsst oder mir die Hand hältst,
Kaltes Totengebein hervorragen.
๑۞๑ Related:๑۞๑
† Poetry
~ German vampiric poetry
† Short Stories
Memento
par Igino Ugo Tarchetti
Quand j’embrasse ta lèvre parfumée,
Chère jeune demoiselle, je ne peux pas forcer
Qu’un crâne blanc est caché en dessous.
Quand je m’accroche à ton corps de rêve,
Je ne peux pas oublier, chère fille,
Qu’il y a un squelette caché en dessous.
Et dans l’horrible vision absorbée.
Partout où vous me touchez, m’embrassez ou me tenez la main,
Je sens les os froids d’un mort qui dépassent.
๑۞๑ Related:๑۞๑
† Poetry
~ French vampiric poetry
† Short Stories
§۞§ Contact via e-mail §۞§
thescarlettmemory@gmail.com
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No, my kind of vampires don`t sparkle in the sun and don`t have emo hairdos. They most certainly don`t wear tons of make-up and don`t chase deer in the forest! For me, the vampire is the bloodthirsty mythological creature that inspired the gothic novels and brought to surface the fears of the subconscious. For me… the image of the vampire is Norferatu or Dracula, surely not Edward Cullen. The only romantic shades that I can accept are those given by Anne Rice in the Vampire Chronicles.
