As manas Bronté em formato puppini

Out on the wiley, windy moors
We’d roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.

Bad dreams in the night
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, don’t you know that it’s me, it’s Cathy, I’ve come home.
I’m so cold, let me in-a-your window.

Uma prendinha do Il miglior Fabbro