Mist clouds lakes

This beautiful photo comes from Catherine’s blog

 

Mist clouds lakes and the neighbouring hills
of the High Brianza fade as grey figures
almost dissolved in distant landscapes
which include things and their background too

Indistinct horizon enters me
while more sun again warms my thin skin
and recalls me past summer just gone.
I’d so much like cleanness in the world

 

October, 9th 2019

 

Italian version

Rime

In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.

 

JB, 2019

Winter ice freezes any trees’ shade
covering with thick and clotted frost fog
every branch, every trunk and this landscape.
In my heart I feel that rime and hoarfrost
 

Where are beautiful mountains’ white ghosts
which adorned my strange and flat sea:
the Po Plain waiting quiet for green life
dreaming any sap turgor of March?
 

Snow is now only an accident, chaos
really not virgin whiteness, it’s hitch
and I live into thoughts of old childs.
Lazy rest in the warmth of my bed.

 

Frebruary, 1st 2019

 

Italian versione here

Where does lead … ?

J.B. 2018

 

Where does lead my road this so grey morning?
Into fog that wraps heavily all things
frosty grass, rimy stubbles and dark
trees that seem only scattered skeletons
 

Where does lead my road also today?
Towards gates of a new confused day
that together throws deadlines and blackmails
some small things to do before night come
 

Where do lead again roads anyway?
Into a world I no more understand
where perhaps hope goes bad ...
I know that there is sun above here
                           give me it

 

December, 18th 2018

Italian version

Save me, please

Photo by JB, 2018

 

I can hardly climb up on this ice
while I limp to win any balance;
I hear showers and I see the stones
roll about among splashes of white

 

So thick, sneaky fog envelops me
and a thought about you, down below
God, it’s slippery! Accept each my step
in your hands. Save me, please

 

Vedretta dei Sfulmini,
August, 8th 2018

 

Versione italiana

Empty mind

Pic by JB, 2018

 

Empty mind with no thoughts
doesn’t know what I am
lost in silly streams made
by mist, details and fog
 

Snow came, snow soon has gone
so the ground is back brown
mix of mud and fresh hopes
of sense and better days
 

A life’s breath splits the clouds
that invade all the things’
and thoughts’ space
 

In the winter’s cold March
can grow up

 
Italian version
March, 4th 2018

Wrong crossroads

Photo by J.B., 2018

This stuff can be considered my own version of some verses
red in a beautiful poem by Marina Raccanelli, where she writes in Italian

ora che il vento ci spinge
verso incroci sbagliati
sentieri senza biforcazioni

That is:

now when the wind drives us
toward wrong crossroads
paths without junctions

Marina shares her poem just when I am in a wrong crossroad, so her words move me so much …
Thank you Marina and forgive me that stole your words!

 

Silly wind of emotion led us
to the peace of impossible land
whilst we lost reason and real things
 

The same wind now drives us toward there,
to wrong crossroads, mad paths, where we don’t
see nor junctions nor truth nor ourselves
 

There, where our emotion is dead
as a bird hurled against the glass,
where the window is closing our dream
 

Here now only there’s silence and fog.

 

January, 29th 2018

My true sea

Photo by GB, 2016

 

This one is my true sea
it’s my plain with its jewels: the lakes
its waves are all the Brianza slow hills
leading me to my highlands, the Alps

Water sea is all equal to itself.
I need signs in the land to walk to
peace and joy: I need poplars and oaks
when my fog hides the sun and the truth

In my earth sea I need
you and your eyes, your glance
to see better myself and the way
where we go, go together, go ahead

 

November, 27th 2017

Italian version