In the hell that we are

Luca Signorelli, i dannati, Duomo di Orvieto (part.)
 Luca Signorelli, The damned, Orvieto Cathedral

In the 2017 edition of 2lei, SL event for the elimination of violence against the women, there was also a work based on my texts. This is the machinima made by Marissa during the event.

I’m sorry because today exists only the Italian version.

I am proud for this work and also touched for the beautiful readings and interpretations of Ortensia, Exantia and Eloisa: three friends and three women.

I am grateful to Elettra, who asked me to write this text, and to Terry, who built the staghe design.

I am especially grateful to my friend Kristine, who understood the true meaning of my texts before than I did.

And, of course: Lemonodo! Thank you very much!

 

Italian version

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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

Tell me

Chagall, Songs of the songs

 

Thou wanted me
and then I wanted thee too.
In thy garden
thou welcome me, so I come
to look for thee and to be together with thee.
Tell me, o tell me
who I am
and why
thou are my delight
thou for me.
Tell me, o tell me
who we are
and who are thou
thou, my beautiful one
that took me, so I took thee.
tell me where
both in the cold and in the warmth
we will be
tell me that thou are the tower
and the palm full of fruits.
Tell me that thou are the breeze
perfumed among the grass
that the winter drives away.
Tell me that thou are dew
and the fountain
which dispels any desert
tell me that thou are for me.
Where do thou graze the herd
of thy soul?

Italian version

Red blood

JB, 2017

 

Red blood of an exotic Woodbine
lights again at the gates of the winter
in the gardens and among the stubbles,
where it pierces thick veil made by mist
 

Vivid purple flares up so much violent,
as if be woman’s flesh grown up turgid
that screams looking for love satisfaction.
I see lips tremble, lying in the grass
 

Red and green: that’s the life resurrection,
and is filled with beauty at the dawn
till the evening when I come back home.
I’m in love and desire you tonight

 

October, 16th 2017

Italian version

Crabapples

This is a beautiful photo made by Catherine,
a lovely poet and a wondeful photographer: see her here

 

Now the summer
has gone
The sun paints
light crabapples
raging as well as violent
is the life

 

They are like orange pearls
in the dark of the night,
as your lips,
when they smile
into my night black thoughts

 

on the web, reading the blog Leaf and Twig,

 

October, 2nd 2017

 
Italian version

Joy

Gentiana asclepiadea, picture from here

 

Common bent feebly blurs at the blow
of the breeze rising up from the valley.
Gentian’s perfect blue shows itself deeper
than the lake abyss and swallows up me
 

I see shades of the sky in the rock
where the cyanite peeps out among quartz.
We are two, we are alone and we are happy
in the peace of a day that is joy

 

Riale, Val Formazza, August, 5th 2017

Italian version