Es una nueva semana de HIVE OPEN MIC y en esta semana el tema es "música tradicional". Saludos a todos mis amigos de esta gran comunidad, les deseo éxitos y bendiciones.
Esta semana decidí cantar un género muy popular en mi país, la canción es "Ángel de luz", un hermoso pasillo ecuatoriano. Siempre he sido muy orgulloso de mi país y es un honor para mí poder cantar esto.
Invito a todos a que se unan a esta actividad semanal.
It's a new week of HIVE OPEN MIC and in this week the theme is "traditional music". Greetings to all my friends in this great community, I wish you success and blessings.
This week I decided to sing a very popular genre in my country, the song is "Ángel de luz", a beautiful Ecuadorian pasillo. I have always been very proud of my country and it is an honor for me to be able to sing this.
I invite everyone to join this weekly activity.
angel de luz, de aromas why de nieves
tu sol tus labios, con flores de ambrosía
tus pupilas, románticas auroras
que no oriente serán el albo día
dentro tu pecho guardas
conciertos de notas, perfumes de nardos,
de flores de albor
mi pecho es un sepulcro de rosas marchitas
animas las flores con besos de amor
reina de lirios
en tus rizadas trenzas
nido de seda, oh duermen los canelos
deja que pose mi glaciales labios
que estan enfermos por falta de tu amor
los labios que no besan son petalos muertos
sonidos sin notas, son astros sin luz
los pechos que no aman son noches polares
sarcofagos tristes que albergan dolor
dentro tu pecho guardas
conciertos de notas, perfumes de nardos,
de flores de albor
mi pecho es un sepulcro de rosas marchitas
animas las flores con besos de amor
angel of light, aromas and snow
your sun your lips, with ambrosia flowers
your pupils, romantic dawns
that does not orient will be the albo day
inside your chest you keep
concerts of notes, perfumes of tuberose,
of dawn flowers
my chest is a sepulcher of withered roses
you animate the flowers with kisses of love
queen of lilies
in your curly braids
silken nest, oh the cinnamon rolls sleep
Let me pose my icy lips
who are sick for lack of your love
the lips that do not kiss are dead petals
sounds without notes, are stars without light
the breasts that do not love are polar nights
sad sarcophagi that harbor pain
inside your chest you keep
concerts of notes, perfumes of tuberose,
of dawn flowers
my chest is a sepulcher of withered roses
you animate the flowers with kisses of love
Woo!
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