Helichrysum smell

Photo by JB, 2018

I was twenty, oh God! Is it possible?
And I ran light across the Alps mountains
yet today a stone challenges my pride
and my feet and my mind shudder both

In the air Helichrysum and my
memories mix with rue that I sense
without see. I seek you there, below
I call you and I’m back: you are my wish

On the hill, in the scrub that wraps up
this limestone rock I go chasing times
by now lost, far away, looking for
resting boys at sunset, singing happy

Cobblestone white and flat make a path
as wide as the life history of saints[1]
who went through this Désert[2].
At the end of the world[3] we revive

Château du Verdun, April, 4th 2018

[1] Above all St. Guilhem  (William), grandson of Charles Martel, famous Christian knight and cousin of the emperor Charlemagne. He is the hero of the Chanson de Guillaume.

[2] The Château du Verdun, or Giant Castle, is located near Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert.

[3] The very impressive Cirque de l’Infernet, known as located “au bout du monde“.

Italian version

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Easter eggs

 

Easter eggs, as if someone can live
in spite of these black nights
 

Easter eggs, as if I could be alive
even though so poor, bad
 

Easter eggs, for You now still spring up
despite all my dark night
 

Easter eggs, thoughts of happy new life
for me too and for this my poor world

 

 

March, 31st 2018

Cry the sap

Like some wreck of a life that has gone
stumbling over the time in the past
old dead things in the water now swim
overlapping reflection of trees

 

The leaves are blooming buds
and breath on Hardened wood
made like stone by the sadness of winter.
The canal stretches out between fields

 

Also I walk around overlapping
memories to this day, mixing tiredness
with the sighs of a spring
for which the country yearns in the cold

 

In myself there’s the yesterday’s chill
lasting in all the evil I can.
Make me water and canal, reflection
of You: I’ll show the light that is in the day

 

When You said to reborn as a child
maybe it’s like old men that can wake.
As an excess of life from my branch
cry the sap because You resurrect

April, 9th 2017

Italian version

Anyway

Pic from here

Anyway
If I think I am right
if I see black as white
If my night is a sigh
and I find not my site

Anyway
If I do not agree
and think that I could be
better me fully free
even if I am a flea

Anyway
when my life almost gone
lies like a bored swan
with no strength, without brawn
without joy and withdrawn

Anyway Easter comes
when You rise again. Does
anyone blind the shine
of the least single sun?

Anyway
You don’t need any pass
to save me from myself.
Let I be not impasse
to my way out, besides

Friday, 14 April 2017

Primo vere

Photo by JB, 2017

A wreck blackthorn is a candid moan
in the hedge, border of a wild fallow.
As cheek blush of young woman in love,
as the bush, also my heart now blooms

Unassuming, the blackthorn is shining,
everybody now sees how it’s beautiful,
candid life in the incipient season
which promises songs to little birds

A white blackthorn is a candid smile
in the sad sea of everyday, twigs wreck.
Please, put blossoms on me, on my branch!
Spring founds Easter out from the usual time

March, 21st 2017

Thank you Leda for your suggestions!

 

Italian version