Quick wall; I hadn't touched the photoshop in a long long time. This one was made with this scan
and some textures from sxc.hu
The text is a poem from Pablo Neruda, who is one of my favorite poets, after Charles Baudelaire (please bear in mind that I'm not a native english speaker, hence the preference).
So... this poem is one I hadn't read before, and even though I haven't read Bride of the water god in quite a while, I believe it might fit the relationship between Soa and Habaek.
the poem: In My Sky At Twilight
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin
The text is a poem from Pablo Neruda, who is one of my favorite poets, after Charles Baudelaire (please bear in mind that I'm not a native english speaker, hence the preference).
So... this poem is one I hadn't read before, and even though I haven't read Bride of the water god in quite a while, I believe it might fit the relationship between Soa and Habaek.
the poem: In My Sky At Twilight
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin
























