A fresh wind

 

800px-wind-beaten_tree_28stolen29_-_my_dream

A Wind-Beaten Tree, by Vincent van Gogh (pic found here)

 

 

A fresh wind now arises from there,
far from me, far from my usual home
It tells me about days fully blue
far from these suffocating warm times

A cold breeze drags the leaves on those trees
reaching me on my tired sad face
while I seat on my stony terrace
watching at long gone days of young girls

A sweet breeze sweeps my mind and my soul
overcoming my thin older skin:
a pale box I fill with evil, sins.
They make me defile our plain love

A fresh wind comes from your other world
it says about our love, about God
I can see both us there, both us pure
I can see both us new, happy and free

 

September, 1st 2022

 

Dulcissime

Sylvia Greenberg – ‘In Trutina’ and ‘Dulcissime’ from Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’. Israel Philarmonic Orchestra, Tel Aviv, 1994, Dir. Zubin Metha.

Last days are very weird ones for me; maybe it’s so cause I’m writing a weird short novel about first time Eve made love. The stuff I post here is something embarassing for me, but I wrote it in English, a language I do not understand very well.

;P

Oh! I’m back!

Thanks to my so cute friend River Moonstone for some of these words.

Thanks to my Love to bear me.

Dulcissime Totam tibi subdo me

(Sweetest Love, I submit all myself to you)

Hidden under my black secret hair
there’s a Pink Calla Lily:
it’s my flower for you, it’s my gift,
charming flower that no else can see

Sweetest Love, I submit all me to you

Be slow, gentle. Be slow, foremost
take your time to explore.
take your time…
poke around, fumble me everywhere

For a while, my breath shall be the only
sound and movement: that’s all
and you, Love, you shall be
just my breath, in my breath

Sweetest Love, I give my all to you

Touch each inch of my skin.
I’ll get crazy, I’ll be as a great spasm
all my body will be as a cry
Tingling and shivering

We will merge our souls as well as
our fleshes together, to one
and to universe too: to each thing.
Put your lips everywhere on my skin

Sweetest Love, I am slave of your wish

So I’ll be my own skin
soft and warm: you can gently
bite me where you want: even there
while my mind starts to spin

Thus, my room will explode and in it
you and me, body and soul
and souls through our skin.
See the night changing into sunlight

Sweetest Love, own me now

Hidden under my black secret hair
there’s a Pink Calla Lily:
get it now as my gift
free me into wild cry

SL, Elven Forest, August, 27th 2022

Perhaps

 

angelo

Pic by Dony Mugnai, found here

 

When you say “perhaps” you
talk about something vague
that might be or might not
something maybe you’d like
it to be. It’s a hope, maybe vain

“Perhaps” sounds as a breath
come from nowhere, as breeze,
fresh air moved by my mind,
breath from odd thoughts, from hide
spots of brains, hearths, of urges
born as mere odds, as chance

So “perhaps” refers to
dreams, not aware tools, acts;
something that could be true
yet now it is not so

My “perhaps” is like hope
about love, about life.
I would “perhaps” could be
I wish me can be true
I would like see my wings
to spread out of my shell
to make fly this my wreck

 

SL, Rainbow Rhapsody, July, 23rd 2022

 

Swifts

 

DSCN0260-min

Pic by me, that place, that day

 

A short holiday makes little lighter
all the cares that give me many troubles
This old town gives itself to us and
owns us like it did when we got married

Crazy game all swifts play fast and freely
while I watch them black under the sky
                                                            over Siena.
As it’s usual I envy them when
my eyes and mind scroll across deep blue

Please, don’t let our memory wane
and our passion turn to old regret:
It’s my love odd and needs skin and flesh,
to be concrete and not abstract trend

 

Siena, July, 1st 2022

 

 

Italian version

 

My crow cries

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Pic found here

My crow cries like did Poe one once shouting
nevermore
even if everything always happens:
life and death, love and pain, hate and joy
run together

A gull flies printing its shadow fast
on this Earth where we stand up like dreaming
while I confuse to do, to be, sleeping,
to find shivers of love on my skin

Save me, oh!
Free me now, again, free me now Lord
watch at my ill poor weak troubled mind
see the flesh You gave me as weird gift…
Please consider how much I’m poor thing

Give me each thing I need, that is love,
that is knowledge to be safe, that’s peace

Castiglioncello, July, 6th 2022

Word

Word

S.Quasimodo

Pic from here

You laugh at me, flaying myself for words,
bending around me in the straining elms,
the blue edge of skies and hills
and quivering waters’ voices,
wiling my youth
with clouds and hues
the light submerges.

I know you. Waylost in you
beauty lifts your breasts,
scoops to your hips and in gentle sweep
spreads over you shy sex,
flows down in harmony of forms
to the ten shells of your lovely feet.

But wait; if i take you,
you too become word to me, and sadness.

Salvatore Quasimodo – Traslation by Jack Bevan

This is one of the best poems I ever read. Better: one of my favourite poems.

So sensual and so sad both. Almost densperated. That “I know you” (Ti so in the original Italian version) bring us into a deep intimacy and meantime into an immense sadness.

Those two last lines are almost unberable and filled with a so great pain… Well, rereading it in these so strange days makes me understand better the poet and feel a sharp melancholy.

Original version (Italian)

Parola

Tu ridi che per sillabe mi scarno
e curvo cieli e colli, azzurra siepe
a me d’intorno, e stomir d’olmi
e voci d’acque trepide;
che giovinezza inganno
con nuvole e colori
che la luce sprofonda.

Ti so. In te tutta smarrita
alza bellezza i seni,
s’incava ai lombi e in soave moto
s’allarga per il pube timoroso,
e ridiscende in armonia di forme
ai piedi belli con dieci conchiglie.

Ma se ti prendo, ecco:
parola tu pure mi sei e tristezza.

Bad strong coffee

crema-for-espresso.jpg

Pic from here

Strong black coffee I drank.
Now my mouth tastes bitter and thus
other lips would find testing my ones

To stand up, to be really upright
in this so weird, ill and naughty world
I need hugs and too cuddles: so blight
drops and I can be better than odd

No one can stand up, upright alone
each of us is just only a poor thing
our lives are all like a weak moan
we are as bird without any wing

Human beings … are such some poor thing
women, men, always thus: error prone
enough fragile to fall down, to cling
each day to someone else as a stone

Strong black coffee I am.
Like my mouth, tastes bitter me too.
Other lips wouldn’t test my ones more

SL, Elven Forest. June, 10th 2022

Pentecost strong wind

vento-in-montagna_cosc3a8-800x532-1

Pic from here

This strong wind now is ruffling
each leaf of any tree and sweeps up
my hair too. There’s a wave
made by freshness that strikes all my world

You are strong wind perturbing
every day my life and you sweep up
my sad being. You’re a wave
made by sweetness, comforting my world

Like a strong wind you’re ruffling
every leaf, every day and replace
my thoughts too. Your sweet wave
moves to love: you’re my world

But your strong wind is thinning
days and things to themselves and trips up
my conscience. Be a wave
again, go toward God and his world

You, my strong wind, don’t take
each aspect of my life, so please break
this my evil and be you the wave
that directs my old keel the world

June, 4th 2022

Italian version

Eros

amplesso-stefania-nicolini-600x799-1

Paint by Stefania Nicolini

I feel softness and urge takes my chest,
need to see your skin and to touch you
without fabric in between; dismay
into your gloomy eyes could calm down

I still crave love from you and your flesh
even modest I want lead to tense
up to a powerful shiver; your hands
come onto me, to frisk me everywhere

I am yours. Without veils I await
you, your lips cover through all the body
I give you. You drive me to that spasm
I yearn for, so maybe anguish breaks

My breast gives itself to you as well
my mouth and my round navel and my
narrow hole that makes female your wife.
You fill sweetness with love

We came to our evening, yet I
want you as when I gave myself to
you first time and we were really one:
body, soul, eyes and I was twenty

My first embrace was clumsy because
inexpert, we discovered flesh.
Our life then mutated its course.
Bring me to God again: I love you

Give me peace, restore me again, more;
I’m more wrinkled respect at that time
but expert. Love gasp takes me indeed;
You give me only each thing and we

will be concert

May, 29th 2022

Italian version

Breath me, by Sia

Breath me

Sia Kate Isobelle Furler

sia-1

Pic from here

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame

Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, enfold me
I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend,…

 

 

May, 8th 2022