Ser poeta, by Florbela Espanca

Ser poeta
F. Espanca

Pic from here

To be a poet is to be loftier, to be greater
To be greater than men! To bite like those who kiss!
To be a beggar and to give like he who is
King of the Kingdom of the Nearby and Faraway Pains!

To be a poet is to have the splendor a thousand desires
And to not even know what one wants!
To have here deep within a star that burns bright,
To have the talons and the wings of a condor!

To be a poet is to hunger, to thirst for the Infinite!
For helm, the mornings of gold and satin…
To be a poet is to condense the world into one sole shout!

And to love you, thus, madly…
To be a poet is to be the soul and the blood and the life in me
And to proclaim it to all the world, singing!

Florbela Espanca

Original version (Portuguese)

Ser poeta

Ser poeta é ser mais alto, é ser maior
Do que os homens! Morder como quem beija!
É ser mendigo e dar como quem seja
rei do reino de aquém e de além dor!

É ter de mil desejos o esplendos
e não saber sequer que se deseja!
É ter cá dentro um astro que flameja,
è ter garras e asas de condor!

É ter fome, é ter sede de Infinito!
Por elmo, as manhãs de oiro e cetim…
É condensar o mundo num só grito!

E é amar-te assim perdidamente…
É seres alma e sangue e vida em mim
E dizê-lo cantando a toda a gente!

https://youtu.be/DzeD-fO3DcM

Rain. A tribute to Terrygold by Kristine Blackadder

Rain by Terrygold. Machinima

I already told you here something about this Terry’s beautiful and moving work.

There, I already tried to say something about a so nice Kristine’s machinima about “Rain”, the last art installation built shared by Terrygold into Second Life.
Well, this beautiful friend, Kristine, was not satisfied by her machinima, and felt her need to make more and better: thus, another video was born: “Rain by Terrygold”.
These so dear and clever two friends, Kristine and Terry, go on to grow better and better as artists.

This time Kristine gives space and dignity to the words used by Terry in her work. Kristine makes a beautiful machinima where Terry’s words are in great evidence, while into the original art installation our eyes and our minds are so captured by pics and landscapes that words are subordinate and for instance I self really did not give them their real importance and beauty.
The translation into English from the original Italian text was made by another dear friend, Annalisa Mulialina, while a fourth friend, Shyla, enhanced those words with her so pleasant voice.

Four clever and gentle and dear friend, four women from both the sides of Atlantic Ocean made this wonderful work.

I enjoy their work so much; I enjoy more and more their friendship with Judy.

This machinima was accepted into that so great SL event that is FantasyFaire 2022: it will be presented during the event scheduled on Saturday, April 30th, as showed below here.

Rain FF schedule

And this is the event SLURL

Immortality & Easter eggs 2022

tutte-min

For though in the sight of others they were punished,

their hope is full of immortality.

Wisdom 3:4

I will be back to this hope next week, but now I say that yes, despite everything, my hope is full of immortality because the prophecy has come true and comes true and even in this strange 2022 Christ resurrects and confirms that the same fate will befall us. And I will see my mum and my dad again, indeed: I will see them for the first time as they really are and they will see me.

For the moment, here are our Easter eggs, like every year. I wish everyone a holy Easter, that is: may the meaning of life shows itself.

Italian version

Blood waves

Lanora 1aLanora 1b

Stuff written watching last Solfrid paint, the one here above in a sequence of two, named 1a and 1b. Blood waves is only the title of my stuff.

Anyway, I’m happy she restarted to paint!

Blood waves grow and branch out till the canvas
shows no more than a crimson large space.
Like a nightmarish time we do live
here and now during such odd bad days

Without thinking we go ahead. We
manage sadness with dreams and love hopes
Yet emotion is only instincts’ slave
so denies space to reason and knowledge

I felt never myself silly as
in the present time when evils swell
up again showing terrible faces
to an old feeble mankind that falls

Blood waves arise like warped image
and fill a second canvas with pain
that increases and enters my mind.
Absurd war and apostasy. Death

SL – Peaceful Land, April, 9th 2022

Dry earth

n7fdf31

Pic found here

Dry earth, tired of dust moans at my
footsteps so that a weird and odd creaking
cries chords of a life that’s something missing.
“Water!” begs the desert of each meaning

Dry earth is now as dust where I walk
tired, listening to silence of
no one rising from flat dark nowhere:
empty meaningless space of these days

I’m dry earth. I need fresh dew that could
flow and be both allusion and notice
to spring turgors, now, nowadays lost.
My skin is filling with lines and pains.

Here the earth dries up and wears out more
the day that folds itself to the night
senseless of one who is slave of instinct.
Give us You, water and light that’s missing

March, 28th 2022

Italian version

2nd – East

russiaimpa

Flag of the Czar Peter the Great, found here

This is the second part of a thought titled West – East. See West for its first part.

In a world turned to its first age
made of bright past distinction and strength,
of lost lands and revenges and grudge,
through that world, through such world now I pass

I see strange odd landscapes there, outside,
and molasses that dulls each weak mind,
showed off richness and depravation
of those who have all things yet no sense

Without rules, Mankind sinks:
you are just perverse thrills
with no reason that hold and govern,
you are a feeble meeting of ghosts

I give meaning to history. I claim
and demand both my role and each thing
that the corrupt West took off from us.
Freedom to be as slaves I propose

March, 12th 2022

1st – West

europe flag deform

JB, March 2020

When I wrote this stuff I did not know that a war would have been in Ukraine.

This is the first part of a thought titled West – East.

There’s a world made by dreams and splendours
which grasp all moments stacking them useless,
where there is no more value nor meaning.
Through that world, through such world now I pass

I see strange landscapes and a thick mist
floating over each thing, fading it,
sticking itself to any place, forcing
each poor mind to gestures with no use

Without rules, Mankind sinks
in its ancient beast ‘s cravings
and love is right and rape,
like each thing, instinct’s wage

Without sense to run to, Mankind rules
have no value. Each soul
becomes weird; everything soon dries up.
Freedom turns to be slaves

December, 13th 2021

Italian version

I see

DSCN1892-min

JB, February 2020

I see turgors in grass in my garden
waiting for spring and their life explosion
I see lizards enjoying firsts warm suns
stretching bodies to taste their new lives

I see bees looking for early flowers
to prepare their next lives at this time
after winter’s blind darkness. Sleep. Cold.
I see nature that wants to be alive

I feel turgors in my lazy soul
I see tulips now ready to burst.
My two lips are so dried after winter
with no flesh love. I’m puzzled again

I see wars also in Europe where we
lost real freedom denying view of truth
looking for power, money. Nonsenses.
Where messiahs are now kings so proud. Fakes.

I see mankind so weak, I see sins
everywhere, in my soul, in each one.
Our fight against faith brought those fruits
under so lovely blue deep nice skies

I see people alone in their cages
built by evil and alien bad strengths
against peace, Beauty, sense. Against God.
After this so long Lent we need more

February, 28th 2022

Evil under the sky

IMG_0048-min

JB, February 2020

I wrote this stuff before the Ukraine war.

I know that evil begins into myself. It’s really not only a Putin problem.

February gives us longer days, gifts
when skies sink into a so deep rich blue
up there. Nothing dirties them now, anymore.
The wind blows away all smoke and sadness

God, how beautiful made your sky; February
today shares a so clear sun, a yellow
and alive party. Hug and relief.
May light win each night and bitterness

A whirlwind of air is a momentum,
shakes the cedar green from lazy sleep
of the immovable instants of winter.
Like that cedar, please solve my tiredness

It seems strange that could evil exist
pervasive, effective and so constant
under such a pure, beautiful sky.
Please God turn into strength each my weakness

February, 21st 2022

Italian version

Itch ‘n wish

s-l1600

I got this photo here.

Well: this is Wish 2, (very!) less serious than the previous one. It’s only a play, a joke. Is it?. Please, refer to the pic to fully understand its title. LOL.

I wish to be wish
as a witch you can catch
in a wood, near that birch
which loves a hard, tall beech
while we can see a bitch
going fast to a beach

I’m emotions and skin, I’m an itch
and my body wants twitch
among your hands: bewitch
me.

My flesh is like a glitch
as an old broken kitsch.
Take me, fill my deep niche:
I want feel that sweet stitch.

You can make me to switch
so my joy grows so rich

Helpless, I’m part of us.
Don’t you let I unhitch

February, 18th 2022