Você procurou por: brutal the daylong bashing (Inglês - Tagalo)

gabu by carlos angeles the battering restlessness of the sea insists a tidal fury upon the beach at gabu, and its pure consistency havocs the wasteland hard within its reach. brutal the daylong bashing of its heart against the seascape where, for miles around, farther than sight itself, the rock stones part and drop into the elemental wound. the waste of centuries is grey and dead and neutral where the sea has beached its brine, where the split salt of its heart lies spread among the
gabu by carlos angeles the battering restlessness of the sea insists a tidal fury upon the beach at gabu, and its pure consistency havocs the wasteland hard within its reach. brutal the daylong bashing of its heart against the seascape where, for miles around, farther than sight itself, the rock-stones part and drop into the elemental wound. the waste of centuries is grey and dead and neutral where the sea has beached its brine, where the split salt of its heart lies spread among the dark habiliments of time. the vital splendor misses. for here at gabu where the ageless tide recurs all things forfeited are most loved and dear. it is the sea pursues a habit of shores.

“gabu” by carlos a. angeles the battering restlessness of the sea insists a tidal fury upon the beach at gabu, and its pure consistency havos the wasteland hard within its reach. brutal the daylong bashing of its heart against the seascape where, for miles around, farther than sight itself, the rock stones part and drop into the elemental wound. the waste of centuries is grey and dead and neutral where the sea has beached its brine, where the spilt salt of its heart lies spread among the dark habiliments of time. the vital splendor misses. for here, here at gabu, where the ageless tide recurs, all things forfeited are most loved and dear. it is a sea pursues a habit of shores.
“gabu” by carlos a. angeles the battering restlessness of the sea insists a tidal fury upon the beach at gabu, and its pure consistency havos the wasteland hard within its reach. brutal the daylong bashing of its heart against the seascape where, for miles around, farther than sight itself, the rock stones part and drop into the elemental wound. the waste of centuries is grey and dead and neutral where the sea has beached its brine, where the spilt salt of its heart lies spread among the dark habiliments of time. the vital splendor misses. for here, here at gabu, where the ageless tide recurs, all things forfeited are most loved and dear. it is a sea pursues a habit of shores.