martedì 18 aprile 2017

Quando un uomo ama, la sua donna corre.

When a man loves his woman runs.
Have you ever seen the reaction of a woman loved by a man? When a woman meets a man who falls in love with her, always she has the same reaction: she runs.
She runs by, runs towards, runs away, however runs. And the man is still there and can also have just a reaction: to run.
He runs by, runs towards, runs away, however runs.
In the end I know that love is a big marathon. And in this huge athletics track, including leg warmers, sweat bands, and starter bored, certain moments of pathos are consumed that even Mennea has given us.
We see men who had never trod athletics tracks, but at most made the trek in the fall between the hilly streets of a country fair, put shoes and jump racing on the lane, chasing her that she turned for a moment and seems to have winked do with misunderstanding; other men, more used to competition, as long as she does not slow to point him leave her scent, and he then snaps and runs, but she is an old school lungometrista and recovers quickly stepped record. Then there are men who are competing on themselves, that invade lanes, slow down, look around, seem uninterested to the thing, until someone supports them and encourages them to run together.
Love is a race, the kind that break your breath, that make you cramp and dehydrate you. No matter being first, but never stop running.

Quando un uomo ama, la sua donna corre.
Avete mai visto la reazione di una donna all'amore di un uomo? Quando una donna incontra un uomo che si innamora di lei, ha sempre la stessa reazione: corre.
Corre da, corre verso, corre via, comunque corre. E l'uomo resta lì e può avere anche lui solo una reazione: correre.
Corre da, corre verso, corre via, comunque corre.
Alla fine mi sa che l'amore è una grande maratona, dove non spesso al traguardo si giunge attraverso percorsi diversi. E in questa enorme pista d'atletica, tra scaldamuscoli, fasce tergisudore, e starter annoiati, si consumano certi momenti di pathos che neanche Mennea ci ha regalato.
Si vedono uomini che non avevano mai calcato piste d'atletica, ma al massimo fatto del trekking in autunno tra le strade collinari di una sagra di paese, mettere le scarpette e lanciarsi di corsa sulla propria corsia, inseguendo lei che si è voltata per un attimo e pare abbia ammiccato con fare equivoco; altri uomini, più avvezzi alla competizione, schernirsi davanti ad una provocazione, finché lei non rallenta al punto di lasciargli addosso il suo profumo, e lui a quel punto scatta e corre ma lei è una lungometrista di vecchia scuola e riprende subito un passo da record. Poi ci sono uomini che fanno gara su sé stessi, che invadono corsie, rallentano, si guardano intorno, sembrano disinteressati alla cosa, finché qualcuno non li affianca e li incita a correre insieme.
L'amore è una corsa, di quelle che ti spezzano il fiato, che ti fanno venire i crampi e ti disidratano. Non importa arrivare per primi, ma piuttosto non smettere mai di correre.

17 commenti:

  1. bellissimo post dedicato all'amore!

    blog: www.fashi0n-m0de.blogspot.it

    RispondiElimina
  2. This pic is perfection
    http://carrieslifestyle.com

    RispondiElimina
  3. E come se corre Desi, corre a prescindere da tutto e tutti! ;)
    Mhuà! :*
    Luna
    http://www.fashionsnobber.com

    RispondiElimina
  4. E correre insieme è la cosa più bella :)

    RispondiElimina
  5. è proprio vero! e poi si corre verso la stessa direzione, che è la cosa migliore!
    http://www.audreyinwonderland.it/

    RispondiElimina
  6. Vero si corre sempre e non bisogna mai smettere di farlo.

    RispondiElimina
  7. Great post <3

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    RispondiElimina
  8. Love your post!! Great content
    http://starlingdays.blogspot.com/2017/04/happy-easter-in-usa.html
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    RispondiElimina
  9. Precioso post, preciosas palabras.
    Gracias!!

    RispondiElimina
  10. Q bonito post. Bss guapa.

    www.almamodaaldia.com

    RispondiElimina
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