Foggy smoke

Pic from here

 

Foggy smoke: so we are and the breeze
of the nightfall erases and melts us
like the breath of a child on a mirror:
like we’re nothing that nothing breaks up

Foggy smoke and its doubts fast corrodes
purity in all virginal looks.
So each smile turns into twisted sneer
where the love is just claimed domain
 

Too warm days in this fog. So rare freshness
and clarity too I research inside you,
in your eyes, which I spy while the close
of a so confused life haunts myself
 

After foggy smoke and at the evening
sweetness I meet again; the fatigue
of the affairs of the day calms itself.
Then I can hope some peace here with you
 

Foggy smoke, I soon vanish. Everywhere
I see silliness into this world
and in what I do too. Rarely at times
I surprise an immense, splendid Beauty

 

July, 4th 2017

Italian version

Maybe the linden tree

 

I found that pic here

 

My dear friend Sharrow told me something about this stuff, so I changed something in it.

Thank you, Sharrow!

 

Maybe is this soft sweetness of linden
that spreads itself around in the air
into the already warm night of May
like strong wine which confuses my mind,
 

Maybe is this May sudden sun which
draws my linden out from the sleep where
I lay lazy, old and tired too
as I am a dry clod far from all
 

Maybe it’s this my spring that May slips
into me and so my blood again
boils renewed and alive. A tear melts
all my masks. Look at me: I am yours
 

I feel a deep peace into my womb
barren and running toward the nothing.
Now, please, move stronger me and push me
deeply to the way we are looking for
 

 

May, 28th 2017

 

Italian version

 

Previous version:

Maybe is this lime tree and its sweetness,
like strong wine which confuses my mind,
that spreads itself around in the air
into the already warm night of May
 

Maybe is this May sudden sun which
draws my lime out from the sleep where I
vegetate so old and tired too
as I am a dry clod far from all
 

Maybe it’s this my spring that May slips
into me and so my blood again
boils renewed and alive. A tear melts
all my masks. Look at me: I am yours
 

I feel a deep peace into my womb
barren and running toward the nothing.
Now, please, move stronger me and push me
deeply to the way we are looking for

Now my bed turns to gold

JB 2017

 

Now
gold and light make together my bed.
Yellow, orange and blue paint sharp drawings
demonstrating an order, a sense
After the confused darkness of winter

 
Rich in gold and so precious my bed,
it is like when you touch my nude skin,
You, the sweet love that lives in my depths.
I feel peace overnight, when I’m sleeping

 
Now my bed turns to gold and it shines
as the light in the room and reflects
my thoughts full of the warmth of affection.
You are my spring and you scatter my winter

 

May, 31th 2015

 

Italian version

suddenly

Almost at the end of this strange year, just when its true sense comes  another time, these are my best wishes for a Merry Holy Christmas.

 

 

Suddenly, in the winter,
you went out
beyond sights of blind eyes
toward lands, perhaps ice,
without cries, without shout

Suddenly, in the winter,
Christmas comes
as old news full of white
as a flash in my night
like some cuddles to us
 

Suddenly, in my winter,
death is wife
of the life in each day.
I retry this old pray
pain to faith could be knife
 

Suddenly, in that winter, Christ was born
in the cold, into death, into life,
as now does. Christmas comes.
Still awake, my heart find its true peace

 

December, 19th 2016

Now I’m free

Image from here

(from Chiaroscuro)

Now I’m free.

Not thanks to an absolute

Will
I am free.

There’s a plot for my gestures,
For the present time

And the next.

Now I watch at the pale sun,
The same sun, at the Poplar,
At that fog and that silence.

Now I’m free.

 

Italian version

The night now

I got here this picture.

(from Chiaroscuro)

 

The night now

Is full color

Of stars

 

Italian version

Nivolet

Photo by J.B., August, 25th 2016

 

In the setting of rocks and silences
waters made as green emeralds, jewels
of sapphire follow each other pursuing
the chaste song of snows and cotton grasses
 

All is silent and smells of enormous
drawn up towards impossible Height.
The sound of my vain thoughts now is stopped
and the blue floods me whole violently
 

I am drunk of this clear light, of this sky
I feel good and dissolve each my trouble
as a stone far away among stones.
Everything is just strain and both beauty

 
And I’m fine. I feel good. I feel good

 

Col Rosset, August, 25th  2016

Italian version