Ôàíòàçèðîâàëà íà òåìó òîãî êàêèì äîëæåí áûòü ñåêñ â ñîñòîÿíèè íåâåñîìîñòè?
À ÷åì îòëè÷àåòñÿ ÷åëîâåê, çà÷àòûé â íåâåñîìîñòè? Èëè âîò åù¸ - åñëè ïðîâåñòè âñþ áåðåìåííîñòü â íåâåñîìîñòè, êàê ýòî ïîâëèÿåò íà ðåá¸íêà? À ðîäû â íåâåñîìîñòè?
Æäó âàøèõ äîãàäîê íà ýòî òåìó. Îñîáåííî æäó íà ýòå òåìó ðàçìûøëåíèé îò Òàììè Òàíóêè ;-)
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Evening thoughts about love: maybe I am just too close for you to see me.
Maybe I need to move to a distance where you can see me.
Maybe I touch you too tender for you to feel me.
Mayve my hands needs to be firmer.
Maybe I breathe too deep when I think of you so I scare you off.
Maybe I need just to hold my breath.
Maybe I listen too carefully to you to understand what you want to say me.
Maybe I speak too much for you to separate the words.
Probably I need to be just silent...
Silence is what you need...
(c) my good friend
ïåðåâîä:
Âå÷åðíèå ìûñëè î ëþáâè: âîçìîæíî ÿ ñëèøêîì áëèçîê ê òåáå, ÷òîáû âèäåòü ìåíÿ.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ äîëæåí ïåðåìåñòèòüñÿ íà ðàññòîÿíèå, ãäå òû ñìîæåøü âèäåòü ìåíÿ.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ êàñàþñü òåáÿ ñëèøêîì íåæíî, ÷òîáû ïî÷óâñòâîâàòü ìåíÿ.
Âîçìîæíî ìîè ðóêè äîëæíû áûòü áîëåå òâ¸ðäûìè.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ äûøó ñëèøêîì ãëóáîêî, êîãäà äóìàþ î òåáå, è ÿ îòïóãèâàþ òåáÿ.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ äîëæåí òîëüêî äåðæàòü ñâîå äûõàíèå.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ ñëóøàþ ñëèøêîì âíèìàòåëüíî òåáÿ, ÷òîáû ïîíÿòü òî, ÷òî òû õî÷åøü ñêàçàòü ìíå.
Âîçìîæíî ÿ ãîâîðþ ñëèøêîì ìíîãî òåáå, ÷òîáû îòäåëèòü ñëîâà.
Âåðîÿòíî ÿ äîëæåí áûòü òèõèì.
Òèøèíà – òî, â ÷¸ì òû íóæäàåøüñÿ…
P.S.: Ñïèòå ìèëî. Ñïèòå áåç ëèøíèõ ìûñëåé. Ñïèòå. Ïðîñòî òàê.