Leda

picture by Marcela Bolivar

(Dedicated to LedaEuropa)

     (The girl) The girl lies on the fresh and soft grass
     near the beach, where she feels all the life
     of the sea as a swelling, and seagulls.
     The warm sun soon will caress her skin

(Leda) There a sudden weird love, as a swan
enters her, as a flabby white cloud,
and rapes her slipping his long strong neck
everywhere, like a lustful long snake

     The dawn brushes the girl body now
     with its yellow and pale grazing light
     and the sea breeze takes to her the waves
     as some delicate, far, moving whispers

Leda is both a dream, promise and flesh;
she is betrayed by that pagan sky
like all: Danae, Europa, Io, many ...
like each woman who pays live the world



August, 21st 2016

Italian version

Lighter air

IMG_1572_web

Photo by J.B., 2016

 

 

The air is lighter and invades me so deeply
into my chest and into my mind
to enrapture my grey perverse soul
beyond me and this weighty world's weird

The air is lighter and tempts me and my body
so I climb quickly to find my peace place.
In the refuge I mix and confuse
dreams and memories and silence
                                and silence

 

Mezzalama Shelter, August, 19th 2016

 

Thank you to my sister LedaEuropa for her suggestions!

Italian version

A calm joy

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St.Julius Isle, Orta Lake, J.B., 2013

 

Ancient myths tell us stories about
poisonous snakes and dragons and evil
nestled into this gloomy black island
filled with pagan and perverse rites

Now a calm joy invades every bay
and the same happiness welcomes us.
Black nuns bent under the weight of years
and novices both smile happy: they’re light

The millennial basilica is painted
with the colours of that old time life,
with the current certainty and with
the so serene song of women peace

I would like to find my peace path too
and at present time my way to joy.
Every wave here is whispering sweetly,
firmly however the hope really now

 

June, 26th 2016

 

Italian version

Straw tones

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J.B, 2016

 

My big evil grows hard alike maize
suddenly and so fills all my field
during the dry and warm summer times.
All my grass raves about damp soft soil

Ghosts of flowers and desert white lights,
empty ambitions of upset dreams, chords,
leave as sediment blankets of sleep.
Every day now turns into straw tones

 

June, 22th 2016

 

Italian version

Bones


Simone Baschenis, 1539 Danza macabra, St.Vigilio Church, Pinzolo

 

Bones made boards, dreams
just are crumbs,
sterile bridges to nowhere land always
crushed hopes which soon and fast fly
from the things. They are wrecks in the night

 

Fancies tie up in bundles themselves
heteronyms and so faded masks.
Without flesh any ivory appearance
of the life has the colour of death

 

SL, Enoki, June, 18th 2016

 

Italian version

Only a breath

 

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Photo by J.B., 2009

 

 

Four pins sew upon me some, few excuses
usual and obsolete, anyway
when my cold skin begs you for affection
while it is parched by a fierce frenzy

The love always burns down: only a breath
that the modest sweet night can preserve
such as flashes of light at the sunset.
I steal from you the love I pretend

 

May, 26th 2016

 

Italian version

Blackbird

Photo from wikipedia

Privet fragrance floods me in the garden
sweet as a caress during the night
when I can find comfort and my flesh
feels relax and the spasm soon collaps

As a young blackbird my poor soul scampers
looking deeply in the life grass for something
that is precious and worth to live with.
I am caught by an odd happy peace

My skin shrivels and my legs lost their
strength together with their youthful pride
yet a new and strange hope now grows up.
I am lovely when I climb my anger

May, 29th 2016

 

Thank you dear Marina: I did not know this beautiful song. Fly, blackbird, fly!

Italian version