Nervous

JB, many years ago, before I met my Love

(Thank you to Lizzie Gudkov who helped me with the English grammar)

 

This my body is getting so nervous
It wants you … yet you are away, busy

My skin now rises anxious and yearning
for your touches and cuddles… you’re far

My eyes look for your sweet green grey gaze
here’s a need for your face, lips and kisses

My mind is really upset and empty
I miss your closeness, your gentle love

My soul upsets itself if you’re far
I require you: please come, please come now

Your absence fills my days and my nights
it reminds me of my need for God

I can not get along without you
as I can’t get along without God
my hands grab only fog, smoke or mist
when I not lean myself against you

 

October, 30th 2021

 

Fog erases

I’m sorry… I was not able to post this stuff last week end, as usual …

JB, 2009

 

Fog erases each thing with its nothing
made by silence and moisture and grey
along a way that leads to new Christmas
to new facts, to new hopes, to new life

I drive my car and I look for trees,
for signs or something that have a sense
anything I can see, recognize
to solve troubles and doubts, to go on

I miss white and pure snow in this cold
of an alien, strange winter, unknown.
Out some virus is spreading pain, death
Come soon my Lord with your holy kingdom

December, 14th 2020

There’s sun warmth

JB, 2010

 

After holidays and winter flashes
there’s sun warmth.
I stretch out legs and arms.
All around mist congeals and blocks my
world and landscapes, remaining pale there

I begin to feel older myself,
to realize my acts are now more slow
despite my flesh that throws my mind far
toward young girl’s thoughts and toward dreams

I compressed emotions, a life
which now overflows causing this upset
that disturbs both my brain and my flesh,
old yet learning me as maiden stuff

Where did go years I spent, time I lost
without kisses and cuddles or smiles,
filled with duties and jobs that I now
feel so dry, feel so cold,
feel as lack?

I’m ashamed of so many words I
group with pens on sheets I hide, unknown:
those are outbursts of people I am,
schizophrenic mind without good drive

Other people are into my deep,
men and women that sometimes like flares
can arrive to my eye to look out:
here’s thus laughs, sometime cuddles
                                                           I can

 

February, 14th 2020

 

Italian version

 

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

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