A joke for AngelRaya

 

arda-imbocco-grotta_005_web

Mitla at the door of the cave, in the Land of Arda

I entered the chat at the morning while She was saying bye the go to sleep, at the other side of the world…

 

 

 

As cold tears anywhere

the fog darkness hard hugs everyone,

kisses nude skin and lips

while I’m waiting for news.

 

Then and soon

a mad rush as the sun light hot strikes,

breaks each dream in my eyes, calls me to

my such grey, usual life.

 

I wake up, you go sleeping …

in a dream, maybe we

meet again


SL, Elven Forest chat, December, 10th 2016

 

Mitla

In another world I use the nickname “Mitla”, a comic’s character.
She is a witch killed by the poison of her own snakes

 

 

 

Mitla is tired and she breeds the snakes
that kill her while his time so fast passes
Her virtues into vices change; she
fondles miseries of futile instincts

Alike a cat she skips into a dream,
benefit of her second nice life
with which she goes along and it’s easy.
Only one is the life and its essence

 

May, 25th 2016

 

Italian version

Puppet

As soon as possible I’ll post here the Terry’s photo that (together with Glitter) caused this stuff

 

 

Nude girl puppet is waiting for love
as I do and you do. As each wants.
If we dream into nonsense bad hopes
all is lost in a weak dead regret

I curl up and I seem feel you skin
here to touch. I would be silk for you,
kiss and cover your body everywhere.
My heart needs cuddles, home: it’s so poor

 

SL, Eternal Possession
April, 3rd 2016

 

Italian version

Switch

Poor words inspired just now looking at this photo made by Glitterprincess storie’sGlitter switch

 

Every night, all the night
I would like be a switch
for your love

As a witch
change your thoughts
and catch you in my trap

Like young beech
be your green shadow dark
give you me
as you like it

Yellow stretch of new sun
be then, flash
of desire
juicy fruit

 

SL, Helendale Home, March, 14th 2015

 

Italian translation here

Will be back she perhaps

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Will be back she perhaps
as the rainy sweet spring
after pale winter sunshines
after these my cold days

Will be back she perhaps
as a fresh flower breath
with her warm, soft, string arms
in which close eyes: in peace

Will be back she. Perhaps
I’ll see her colours, dress
of a young spirit, shape
for my deepest hope. Peace.

January, 9th 2014

(Dedicated to Puccetta. Thinking to my mother)

Tornerà lei, può darsi
come dolce pioggia di primavera
dopo le pallide albe d’inverno
dopo questi miei giorni freddi

Tornerà lei, può darsi
come il fresco respiro d’un fiore
con le sue braccia calde, morbide, forti
in cui chiudere i miei occhi in pace

Tornerà lei. Può darsi
ch’io vedrò i suoi colori, vestito
del suo giovane spirito, forma
delle mie più profonde speranze. Pace

Why in English?

I’m silly, but not totally stupid; I’m proud but not blind: I know how bad is my English. I studied this language only at school and hardly ever I used it.
So, why to write in English?

I like writing in Italian, my language, and I have a lot of that my stuff; only a few of these stuffs was read by people different from me; only one people knows both me, the real me, and the author of my stuff. My stuff was never published before I started to be online in the web.
Yes: and what connection between the English and what I’m talking about?

I usually don’t think to what  I want to write: are my words to come to me while I’m doing something: I only write them to fix them.
It seems fool, but sometimes I had written word in English about some arguments because  I was ashamed to write them in Italian, the language I know and understand very well. For instance, it was so about some love stuff, or some erotic stuff.
It is fool, but started so.

Then, I made curious to the sound of my words in English; so, specially using Second Life, I listened to readings of English poetry. I liked a lot that sound, which I never heard before.
Well: I started to write sometimes in Italian and sometimes (trying and with a lot of errors) in English. I usually don’t translate my Italian stuff into English and vice versa, even if I tried doing so with a series of words inspired to Virginia Woolf’s The waves.
My English stuff, right or (most probably) wrong, is quite born as English stuff, not as translation.

Most of that English stuff is on this site and you can read it, if you don’t have better things to do.
I know how bad my English is: please, if you want, correct me. Help me.
Thank you.

Judy

Judy Barton at Plusia (Second Life), during the presentation of  her book “Mitla”.
She is the cat like girl in black.