Winter variations

JB, 2009

 

Frozen countryside looks at me now
while I go and see background fog where
trees and houses drown down near the ground,
where a church and a tower float up

Frozen countryside waits for me so
that I go today too; background clumps
itself between ice fields under fog:
There I see tower, church and belfry

Frozen countryside stretches now here
pale footsteps between ditches and background
weakened by soft fog breaths in the wind.
I see churches and silence; a tower

Countryside now is frozen. I stretch
usual path and is background your face
beyond pale grey mist streams.
My flesh misses your sweet and warm love

Countryside is my frost field which, tired,
into each day path today is limping.
This fog enters me and it’s as background
a far Church. And I struggle

 

February, 3rd 2020

 

Italian version

Night tonight

I found this pic here

 

Night tonight is so beautiful, dark.
White, high, far are the Pleiades, sisters,
and there’s an unobtrusive Moon that
winks at eventide, at lovely Venus

They are bright, shining women from past;
sky too is as a woman’s skin, velvet
black and soft, stretched out in this silence,
waiting for cuddles, love and for peace

Silly fantasies and women as
naked stars, ravings that night indulges.
A plane rapes everything, getting into
artifices into silent sky

Never stars were those women nor night
was a black lovely girl waiting quietly.
Dreams and myths mix themselves and are mads
while so much tiredness
                                      envelops me

 

January, 29th 2020

 

Italian version

My deep skin

Photo by Milena Carbone: thank you

 

My skin is so deep, you
can feel it when you touch me and my
mind sinks down in this night that is just
wish for light, dismay, loss, absence. It
is a pursuit

Your skin is so deep too, I can feel
it when my fleshes moan and groan
and awaits satisfaction to my
drive that pulls tight each muscle and fiber
toward that summit where I want be

We are skin and thus our minds sink
while at night we feel by ourselves
and miss each thing and all what’s above,
overwhelming thirst that is a plea

 

September, 19th 2019

Italian version

Peace and crickets

This movie is by Francesca Bonfatti

 

Peace and crickets knead themselves at evening
with leftover heat wave of this day.
I release my mind free: it finds sweetly
you and thinks about you everywhere

You gave me your caresses tonight
I caught you full of passion and quiver
like a tender surrender and gift
to that love that still takes us so tight

Evening star shins up there looking at
me from a deep dark sharp blue clear sky
into the summer night. It is fullness
of memories, that are now too much,
                                                             and it’s hope

 

Italian version

 

On the radio – A photo by Karma Weymann

On the radio, work by Karma Weymann

 

She is lost in a sad radio sound
lovely girl, young pale skin without shame
maybe thinking at something as blame
maybe waiting for someone as bound
 

She is lost in a past radio sound
looking at somewhere, when she had claim
to be happy, alive, when her aim
was to be owned, taken, so wound
 

She is lost in a love as a bound
stockings are as red passion, as flame
her chest needs to be handled: the frame
of a lost true big love never found

I am lost in a sweet dream, a song
from the past, lovely friend with no shame,
I am thinking to you as a flame.
We could think to be love, to be bound
 

We were lost in a sad radio sound.
I could not more be lie in a frame
where now each thing is changing to pain.
I want that you be happy and not wrong

 

SL, Blacklabel Exhibition, January, 27-28th 2018

Tell me

Chagall, Songs of the songs

 

Thou wanted me
and then I wanted thee too.
In thy garden
thou welcome me, so I come
to look for thee and to be together with thee.
Tell me, o tell me
who I am
and why
thou are my delight
thou for me.
Tell me, o tell me
who we are
and who are thou
thou, my beautiful one
that took me, so I took thee.
tell me where
both in the cold and in the warmth
we will be
tell me that thou are the tower
and the palm full of fruits.
Tell me that thou are the breeze
perfumed among the grass
that the winter drives away.
Tell me that thou are dew
and the fountain
which dispels any desert
tell me that thou are for me.
Where do thou graze the herd
of thy soul?

Italian version

Pale light

Another beautiful pic from Leaf and twig

 

Pale light gives me the sun in this day
made by orange and red in the woods
and by yellow too, when each leaf knows
that soon will be down dead in the mud

I enjoy this pale light of the sun
when so gorgeous each leaf gives me fire
in the woods dressed themselves with light.
There will be soon new life from the mud

Eros, thanatos, much more each day
I can see watching at this strange world.
My faith must help me during a life
that I cannot see only as beasts do

 

October, 26th 2017

Italian version

Red blood

JB, 2017

 

Red blood of an exotic Woodbine
lights again at the gates of the winter
in the gardens and among the stubbles,
where it pierces thick veil made by mist
 

Vivid purple flares up so much violent,
as if be woman’s flesh grown up turgid
that screams looking for love satisfaction.
I see lips tremble, lying in the grass
 

Red and green: that’s the life resurrection,
and is filled with beauty at the dawn
till the evening when I come back home.
I’m in love and desire you tonight

 

October, 16th 2017

Italian version

Now my bed turns to gold

JB 2017

 

Now
gold and light make together my bed.
Yellow, orange and blue paint sharp drawings
demonstrating an order, a sense
After the confused darkness of winter

 
Rich in gold and so precious my bed,
it is like when you touch my nude skin,
You, the sweet love that lives in my depths.
I feel peace overnight, when I’m sleeping

 
Now my bed turns to gold and it shines
as the light in the room and reflects
my thoughts full of the warmth of affection.
You are my spring and you scatter my winter

 

May, 31th 2015

 

Italian version

Red cachemire

 

JB, 2017

 

You paint using so sinuous thoughts
every night all my night and my skin
quivers, trembles and asks for caresses
as she was still young and gets upset

 
Spring is trap and a danger for minds,
it’s a fire, it’s as scattered poppies
like the blood of a young woman when
she surrenders and gives her to love

 
In the winter I wanted my bed
red and I doodle my unsure dreams
every dawn as in cashmere designs
when you go far and I think alone

 
I don’t fulfil you, you don’t to me, neither
it’s enough this flesh for the immense wish
that you open wide as the blue does
when it breaks the clouds and at last shines

 

May, 9th 2017

 

Italian version