To my poor friend


I’m not able to work today. I always control my mail and your blog.
My soul is emplty, full of fog.
My eyes are wet.
My heart is somewhere, lost, painful.

I was so selfish and so cruel to you: I was your evil. I knew it.
I did it anyhow.
In my language, it’s a mortal sin.
I built your evil. I hurt you.
Let me dedicate to you this song by Vasco Rossi, sang by Fiorella Mannoia.


That’s my bad translation of the lyric.

Sally walks on the street even without
looking at the ground
Sally is a woman who no longer wants
to make war
Sally has suffered too much
Sally has already seen what
can collapse upon her
Sally was already punished
for each distraction and weakness
for each honest caress
given just to not feel bitterness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor
feel its so nice noise

Sally walks on the road and she’s firm
thinking about nothing
by now she looks at the people
with indifferent manner
those moments when a glance moved upsets
and when life was easier
and strawberries could also be eaten are far away
because life is a shiver that flies away
it’s all a balance around the madness
around the madness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor
feel its so nice noise

Yet, Sally, maybe is just this the sense, the sense
of your wandering
maybe really we must feel ourselves
a little bad at the end
maybe at the end of this sad story
someone will find his courage
to face the sense of guilt
and delete them off from this trip
to really live each instant
and every its upset
as it were the last one

Sally walks on the road with light steps
now it is evening
the streetlights lights up
all the people run to home in front of their televisions
and a seed comes into her mind
maybe her life was not completely lost
maybe something was saved
maybe really not everything was wrong
maybe it was right so
maybe, maybe yes
What do you want I tell you?

feel that so nice noise


First rain

pic found here


First rain comes in the new coming year
that has come by now and that now passes
on the lake, on the woods and the mountains
and on me, on my alarmed look

Just now a frozen breeze brings me back
languors of all my time and the snow
covers the alps of far and distant worlds
where each summer and beauty hurt me

Give me strength to go further me while
the cold tightens my mind and her thoughts
to go where You want me, where You wait
me and my heavy spirit of ice

Bring me away from the winter sad time
of my relentless, slow and bad nights
me, that look at my old withered glares
in the clouds that flow and so fast go

January, 3rd 2018


Italian version




My smoke

Photo by JB 2017


I need pain in my life
to see well what I am
I need night in my light
to see You further me

In the garden of sun
trees and shrubs enjoy light.
Where their roots look for peace
there’s an ancient cave dark

Under ground, I go there
to see me in the smoke
to feel all that my smoke
and to be as the smoke

Like that cave is my life
many days in my years
when I swear any light
and become only smoke


January, 13th 2018

I’m back!

I’m sorry, but I had to work a lot in the last days, and I was lucky to have the Xmas holiday to close an important project.

So, I could not share here my stuff each saturday, as I try to do from years.

Yet, now, I’m back again and I hope you will se soon my silly thoughts here, again!

I wish you all the best in this new year. I am so grateful to this blog that allows me to meet a lot of so clever and interesting people all around the world!


Thanks you!

Judy, January, 15th 2018


pic by JB: my 2017 Crib


Purple tears are the leaves
after the autumn’s gold in the wood.
I look at the frost coming down to
the world, that quickly runs to the solstice


The leaves drip to the ground like my days
in the gardens now soaked with winter.
I pray that Something want now return
in the Advent, when life can reborn


My crib is still awaiting a Child,
strange king who gives Himself to the people.
I’m the one who sleeps showing her back
the one You come to save



December 2017


Italian version

It’s Your Advent

Photo by JB 2016

As a cat that’s now old I am warming
my black hairs and my skin at the sun;
it’s no more than a tepid ball that
loses zenith and falls to the Alps

I look back: I had so many time.
I curse at its obsessive run. I
see my errors and not fixed pulses,
as corruption of lifeless anaphors

It’s Your Advent, it’s so now, again,
and I’m waiting for you sitting on
piles of already lost, wasted chances
due to sloth or to traps. I’m so inept

Come again anyway, please, I pray
You and Your Sweet Mom, that is my Mom.
I am clumsy as a grasshopper’s that
tries to fly to the sky.
                                        I miss You

November, 27th 2017


Italian version

In the hell that we are

Luca Signorelli, i dannati, Duomo di Orvieto (part.)
 Luca Signorelli, The damned, Orvieto Cathedral

In the 2017 edition of 2lei, SL event for the elimination of violence against the women, there was also a work based on my texts. This is the machinima made by Marissa during the event.

I’m sorry because today exists only the Italian version.

I am proud for this work and also touched for the beautiful readings and interpretations of Ortensia, Exantia and Eloisa: three friends and three women.

I am grateful to Elettra, who asked me to write this text, and to Terry, who built the staghe design.

I am especially grateful to my friend Kristine, who understood the true meaning of my texts before than I did.

And, of course: Lemonodo! Thank you very much!

Oh! if you want to see a not so bad translation, as Lemonodo told me, you can click the “subtitles” button, in the right bottom side of the youtube window. Then, select “English” in the settings!



Italian version