Pic from here
from No Country for Old Men
It’s not about knowing who you are. It’s about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. or anybody’s. You dont start over. That’s what it’s about. You understand what I’m sayin?
You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday don’t count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin else. You might think you could run away and change your name and I dont know what all. Start over. And then one mornin you wake up and look at the ceilin and guess who’s layin there?
When I read Sutree, by C.McCarty, I was really surprised. I liked so much that book. After it, I read also No country for old men, The road, The Orchard Keeper and Outer Dark. I like all those books.
Pic from here
Gratitude to the Unknown Instructors
What they undertook to do
They brought to pass;
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.
William Butler Yeats
A friend showed me these beautiful words.
Above all last two verses move me so much…
pic from here
from The Second Elegy
Lovers, if they knew how, might utter
strange things in night air. Since it seems
everything hides us. Look, trees exist; houses,
we live in, still stand. Only we
pass everything by, like an exchange of air.
And all is at one, in keeping us secret, half out of
shame perhaps, half out of inexpressible hope.
Rainer Maria Rilke.
Original German text:
Duineser Elegien, Aus Die zweite Elegie
Liebende könnten, verstünden sie’s, in der Nachtluft
wunderlich reden. Denn es scheint, daß uns alles
verheimlicht. Siehe, die Bäume sind; die Häuser,
die wir bewohnen, bestehn noch. Wir nur
ziehen allem vorbei wie ein luftiger Austausch.
Und alles ist einig, uns zu verschweigen, halb als
Schande vielleicht und halb als unsägliche Hoffnung.
Rilke’s Elegies is one of my favourite books.
Half out of inexpressible hope … so much of my life, so much of my deepest wishes is like so…
pic from here
Spoon River Anthology, 64.
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me —
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire —
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
Edgar Lee Masters
These words torture me from the first time I read them, during a long bus trip to my holidays.
I attended high school
Pic from here
For us like any other fugitive,
Like the numberless flowers that cannot number
And all the beasts that need not remember,
It is today in which we live.
So many try to say Not Now,
So many have forgotten how
To say I Am, and would be
Lost, if they could, in history.
Bowing, for instance, with such old-world grace
To a proper flag in a proper place,
Muttering like ancients as they stump upstairs
Of Mine and His or Ours and Theirs.
Just as if time were what they used to will
When it was gifted with possession still,
Just as if they were wrong
In no more wishing to belong.
No wonder then so many die of grief,
So many are so lonely as they die;
No one has yet believed or liked a lie,
Another time has other lives to live.
From years I try to translate it into Italian… I am not able …
I’m trapped in my home, so I cannot share here a better photo…I’m sorry
Anyway, sunset still floods with peace
us and yellow light comes. A breeze breathes.
A joyful blackbird plays near me,
herald of infinite souvenirs
Yes, we live and we’ll live in this world
that forgives and maintains us.
I thank You, my kind Lord, Father Lord,
fill my nothing with deep and strong wish
April, 25th 2020
Like a shadow I slip into nights
where I find dreams and nightmares and cats
lovely and wild, independent and black,
cute sweet girls making love and romance
I’m my shadow when slip into nights
without sense except feeling me good
without sobs, troubles and true life’s thoughts
yet I’m human, so my soul finds me
I’m not shadow, I wish sun and spring
no dream is better than my real life
when my Love hugs me thus God is here
and I pray “My Lord, please, save me now!“
April, 19th 2020
See also this one, maybe the same, maybe not
Take care, my friend.
I don’t know if a veil
can be a lie, can be a jail
hiding and trapping well
what I am in my hell
I need what I don’t know
maybe love, maybe more
I’m alone in this world
I’m my rain falling down
I would like sing nice words
free my soul, fly as bird
yet that red purple moth
seems a wound on my mouth
I shake my body hard
with no sense. I move hands
like a child with no dad.
Pain is my name so far
I don’t know, maybe a veil
can be a lie or a jail…
My mask falls down to earth
I show you now my heart
October, 1st 2019
A Fritillary like dying leaf
trembles in sun light piercing dark shadow
there, in that clearing among high firs.
Later she flies up back like a thought
From a distance she’s gold dillydallying
that descends and too random vault, twirl
as a life without way, with no path,
almost gust of faint air in main wind
Genova Valley, La Todesca
August, 17th 2019
Toward London together with my sons, 2017
After these rainy and strange and cold months
everything is well usual, awake
in the world of green life,
in this time
where already spring is warming up
You are peaceful too. I look at you
while you talk and have rest quietly.
What will do our sons to whom we
gave both life and sense to be in the world?
Now they go unsteady and shaky but
but they try as we too tried then.
Let’s give them all that field we could to have
when our time was so dense: a promise
May, 31st 2019