#italians - Hello Poetry

Chorus] I can’t go on without my notes! I can’t go on without the words! I can’t go on without my notes! I can’t go on without the words! [Verse 1] My princess tells me, late at night, Some boys are good, some still can be. With some, the world turns bright and strange, And flowers fall like rain on me. In Russia, many open hearts, With simple truth, no hidden knife. But fool the French is harder, harder It's hard for bit...es them to stupefy [Verse 2] The Dutch will lure you: crackling smoke. Italians attract with honey talks. The Arabs shine in clean silhouette. Indians are famous for their girlfriends' pose [Chorus] I can’t go on without my notes! I can’t go on without the words! I can’t take fake, I can’t, I can’t! Don’t make me play the fool again! [Verse 3] It seems the world is not a song like, It’s someone else’s pain re-sung one. To find the one who keeps you hooked, Comes easiest if you are a punk. Though many worthy walk in Russia, Though Frenchmen wear a lion pride, My princess gave one gift to me now, She said: just keep your words alive! [Verse 4] Today the world moves on, dead set, Toward where no living breath is left. Today they herd us, sheep in lines, Through Plato’s gorge, into the drift! [Chorus] I can’t go on without my notes! I can’t go on without the words! © Copyright: Оле-Да-Оле, 2026 The song has already been recorded in my friend's tiny recording studio. There should be a release in two versions (in two languages) on Soundcloud on 12-13/04/2026 https://soundcloud.com/ole-ole-698765421 The original text ( https://stihi.ru/2026/01/11/28) Я не могу! Я не могу, без нот я не могу! Я не могу, без слов я не могу! Я не могу, без нот я не могу! Я не могу, без слов я не могу! Слышу рассказ моей принцессы, Что парни бывают хороши Что мальчики есть, с кем мир чудесен, Где дарят кипами цветы Что среди русских больше славных, Много открытых простецов А, вот, французов одурманить И стервам сложно - ждёт облом! Манят голландцы дымом крэка, А итальянцы - мёдом уст Арабы славны силуэтом, Индусы - позами подруг! Я не могу, без нот я не могу! Я не могу, без слов я не могу! Я не могу, слышать фальшь я не могу! Я не могу, быть снова лохом не могу! Похоже, мир совсем не песня, А парафраз чужих обид Найти того, с кем интересно Попроще тем, кто сам дебил Пусть среди русских много славных, А у французов - гонор львов Моя принцесса мне в подарок Сказала: - Просто хорошо! Сегодня мир идёт упрямо Туда, где нет уже живых Сегодня всех ведут баранов Платоновым ущельем в выр! Я не могу, без нот я не могу! Я не могу, без слов я не могу! © Copyright: Оле-Да-Оле, 2026

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Apr 10

Apr 10, 2026 at 4:56 PM UTC

I don’t remember my life in London anymore Barcelona - tagliata da flussi di suoni come boulevard* Stella is gone away on acid. I trust her, what else? Nat is Polish but I thought she’d be Spanish And Richard. Young - and a monkey. Deepty will marry an Indian engineer. Wide hips, same problems. ******* Italians in El Born

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Sep 26, 2017

Sep 26, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC

martaeffe

3 maig 2017

I don’t remember my life in London anymore Barcelona - tagliata da flussi di suoni come boulevard* Stella is gone away on acid. I trust her, what else? Nat is Polish but I thought she’d be Spanish And Richard. Young - and a monkey. Deepty will marry an Indian engineer. Wide hips, same problems. ******* Italians in El Born

13

I lay atop the grass with Cecily, taking in the sun anew. He calls down, Come see what I've done now, come see this new tattoo! Eh. I'm rather proud! Not now cuz, I'm busy. Oh come now, it's profound! A portrait of Edgar Allen Poe! Speaking of poets, I'm quite in the middle of an epic something... DO YOU MIND?! It's realllllly good though! Oh, fine. I plod my *** up the stairs in the heat and reach the balcony. I'm blown out of the water. He's right, it's a masterpiece! Edgar's soul ringing out through skin to me! Oh, wow. You know, he owns my favorite poem. Which is that? A dream within a dream. Ah yes, the canvas muses, reciting a verse, just like music. Well isn't this canvas kindred! The length of his cigarette the duration of time we quip. Back and forth, our own prose. He says not to kiss your *** but you are quite moving my soul. You are inspiring me, the way you tie emotions to paper, in utter splendor. Smoke break over, to return to mechanical buzzing. His eyes sincere, I'd like to share, hear more your words. And I yours! I descend stairs, with Godson in towe. Are you of this town? Yes, for now. As am I, you should take my digits. OK! I'm still descending. Oh, right.. pulling out my phone. I'm a stickler for full names, what are you called? Oh, I'm Italian too! Well, I'm Sicilian, it's quite a difference. Oh is it now? ******* elitist. Handsome though. We'll see where this goes...

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Jan 2, 2015

Jan 2, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC

KatieMarchetello

Mediterranean Mirror

I lay atop the grass with Cecily, taking in the sun anew. He calls down, Come see what I've done now, come see this new tattoo! Eh. I'm rather proud! Not now cuz, I'm busy. Oh come now, it's profound! A portrait of Edgar Allen Poe! Speaking of poets, I'm quite in the middle of an epic something... DO YOU MIND?! It's realllllly good though! Oh, fine. I plod my *** up the stairs in the heat and reach the balcony. I'm blown out of the water. He's right, it's a masterpiece! Edgar's soul ringing out through skin to me! Oh, wow. You know, he owns my favorite poem. Which is that? A dream within a dream. Ah yes, the canvas muses, reciting a verse, just like music. Well isn't this canvas kindred! The length of his cigarette the duration of time we quip. Back and forth, our own prose. He says not to kiss your *** but you are quite moving my soul. You are inspiring me, the way you tie emotions to paper, in utter splendor. Smoke break over, to return to mechanical buzzing. His eyes sincere, I'd like to share, hear more your words. And I yours! I descend stairs, with Godson in towe. Are you of this town? Yes, for now. As am I, you should take my digits. OK! I'm still descending. Oh, right.. pulling out my phone. I'm a stickler for full names, what are you called? Oh, I'm Italian too! Well, I'm Sicilian, it's quite a difference. Oh is it now? ******* elitist. Handsome though. We'll see where this goes...

62

Spark up my cancer stick as the mist rolls in. Enchanted, I sit on these steps and catch water rivulets while holding my breath, the smoke entwining with secrets I've shed, all the while cherishing the thought of shared bed. My wicked streak no longer welcome here there's no room in our nest for this shame in my chest I find myself nourishing what hasn't happened yet, flourishing the tender side of my soul in the dead of night I sit here alone not cold, for beknownst to me, my inner vision in sight, orange cones surround the scene, that cannot obscure moonlight, oxygen growing in trees and all the famed whispers cavorting with me. All congenial with our convictions, this depiction of snow Winter sent has me lifted. Every fence i lean over has only meant that I see you. Spring sprouts as a human, your hope makes me feel new. I've hit the ground running to pick up your pace, but not for a second do I feel in a race. We have hit a harmonious stride, and Dear, I do find that your words are the grace in this ephemeral place. I'm right beside you smiling because home is your face.

0

Dec 27, 2014

Dec 27, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC

KatieMarchetello

Secrets of the City Fog

Spark up my cancer stick as the mist rolls in. Enchanted, I sit on these steps and catch water rivulets while holding my breath, the smoke entwining with secrets I've shed, all the while cherishing the thought of shared bed. My wicked streak no longer welcome here there's no room in our nest for this shame in my chest I find myself nourishing what hasn't happened yet, flourishing the tender side of my soul in the dead of night I sit here alone not cold, for beknownst to me, my inner vision in sight, orange cones surround the scene, that cannot obscure moonlight, oxygen growing in trees and all the famed whispers cavorting with me. All congenial with our convictions, this depiction of snow Winter sent has me lifted. Every fence i lean over has only meant that I see you. Spring sprouts as a human, your hope makes me feel new. I've hit the ground running to pick up your pace, but not for a second do I feel in a race. We have hit a harmonious stride, and Dear, I do find that your words are the grace in this ephemeral place. I'm right beside you smiling because home is your face.

52