Lothariana
02-08-2004, 21:00
Come see us!!! We have nations all kinds of nations, but unfortunetely not that many nations, so I'm coming here to spread the good news... We want you IN!
The South Atlantic is a beatifull region, with warm beaches, green jungles, big cities, fair economy, many jobs... what you waiting for? Well... it's impossible to say how nice we are and how much you want you...
I hope you come and help us grow even more!!!
World Factbook Entry:
The song of exile
— traslate Nelson Ascher —
My homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air;/no bird here can sing as well/as the birds sing over there.
We have fields more full of flowers/and a starrier sky above,/we have woods more full of life/and a life more full of love.
Lonely night-time meditations/please me more when I am there;/my homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air.
Such delights as my land offers/Are not found here nor elsewhere;/lonely night-time meditations/please me more when I am there;/my homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air.
Don't allow me, God, to die/without getting back to where/I belong, without enjoying/the delights found only there,/without seeing all those palm-trees,/hearing thrush-songs fill the air.
by Gonçalves Dias
The South Atlantic is a beatifull region, with warm beaches, green jungles, big cities, fair economy, many jobs... what you waiting for? Well... it's impossible to say how nice we are and how much you want you...
I hope you come and help us grow even more!!!
World Factbook Entry:
The song of exile
— traslate Nelson Ascher —
My homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air;/no bird here can sing as well/as the birds sing over there.
We have fields more full of flowers/and a starrier sky above,/we have woods more full of life/and a life more full of love.
Lonely night-time meditations/please me more when I am there;/my homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air.
Such delights as my land offers/Are not found here nor elsewhere;/lonely night-time meditations/please me more when I am there;/my homeland has many palm-trees/and the thrush-song fills its air.
Don't allow me, God, to die/without getting back to where/I belong, without enjoying/the delights found only there,/without seeing all those palm-trees,/hearing thrush-songs fill the air.
by Gonçalves Dias