Historia En Ingles Con When

Love story

I saw him the last time when the wind was blowing the dry leaves of autumn. Paris looked perfect that night. The moon was so clear we didn't need the lights to show our way to Montmatre. A paintor stared at his face astonished by the perfection of his features, the deepness of his fine blue eyes, the well built nose and tiny lips. The paintor wished he could have kissed him, as Michelangel when he finished the sculpture of his David. For the paintor was a homosexual who, of course, admired that well-looking boy whom I hardly knew except for those moments when he lied upon me pushing my arms upwards as if he wished to show me the power of his manhood as he entered on me with slowly, softly movements like trying to perpetuate that moment forever. But for him nothing was forever. He did not admit the fact that someone could posess him with the force of those chains who carried the black men from Africa spreading them as slaves throughout the world. When the world was a colony possesed by the disire of wealth an dominance. Power the key of success, fame and religion, seeking treasures hiden in the mines, in the sacred places in the name of a punishing God for whom I feared far more than his contrary, the devil.

Our goodbye kiss was not a promise, neither a rejection. He was surprised as he got a painting of himself from the paintor. It was a cartoon, almost a joke, as if fate and circumstances could bring us back together somehow in the wheels of time. I never asked him his name. We faded in the night like a shadow one could touch with one finger.

Yo lo vi la última vez cuando el viento soplaba las hojas secas de otoño. Paris parecía perfecta esa noche. La luna era tan claro que no necesitamos la luz para mostrar el camino de Montmartre . Un pintor miró fijamente a su cara de asombro por la perfección de sus facciones , la profundidad de sus hermosos ojos azules , la nariz bien construido y pequeños labios . El pintor deseaba que él podría haberlo besado , como Michelangel cuando terminó la escultura de su David . Para el pintor era un homosexual que , por supuesto , admirar ese chico bien parecido al que apenas conocía a excepción de los momentos en que él mintió sobre mí empujar los brazos hacia arriba como si quisiera que me mostrara el poder de su virilidad al entrar en mí con lentitud, suavemente movimientos gusta tratar de perpetuar ese momento para siempre . Pero para él no era para siempre . No admitió el hecho de que alguien le podría posess con la fuerza de esas cadenas que llevaban los hombres negros de África difusión como esclavos en todo el mundo. Cuando el mundo era una colonia poseído por el disire de la riqueza de una posición dominante. Potencia la clave del éxito , la fama y la religión , buscando tesoros ocultados en las minas, en los lugares sagrados en el nombre de un Dios que castiga a quien temía mucho más que

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