Flower myth, 1918 – Paul Klee
A rosebloom I give you as a gift. It has whorls
red, rich, complex, compound
like the unspeakable hope that my flesh
as well as my deep spirit requires
This rosebloom I give you as a gift. Feel its taste:
the same of my warm blood, the same colour.
It has the scent of all my desire
that your glance upsets and fiercely stokes
Get the bloom: it’s my gift for your love.
Then myself I’ll be gift, restless matter
delicate with petals and thorns
which defends both my shame and frail marrow
A rosebloom is my gift: I give you it.
You breathe it, kiss, caress, enjoy it
This my present that is me, my question.
My rose I give you helpless tonight
May, 3rd 2017
To-day rose buds red green pierce the sky
The next day lives will go as they use
To-day cold blue ice skies pierce my soul
The next day I’ll search you as to-day
10th April 2013
Kiba, Thank you for the beautiful photo!
Una rosa ed è tardi germoglia
nel grigiore di pallide nebbie
sboccia rossa e violenta in autunno
come incongrua, amorosa presenza
Sciocca Dorothy e dove le scarpe?
Nelle fiabe finite sepolte
tra la polvere e il tempo, relitti
di sognanti illusioni e d’istinti
Blocca vita, emozione perversa
che si annida in languori distanti
e di cremisi vesti.
Una rosa germoglia ed è tardi
Un antico rubino, un imbroglio
che collega a passate esistenze
D’altra donna e me stessa il dipinto
come allora e non so
Sunday, 21th october 2012
It’s too late but this rose is now budding
in the greyness of my land’s pale fogs
it buds red and so violent in the autumn
like incongruously, both loving presence
Foolish Dorothy where are your shoes?
They are buried in the fairy tales ending
wrecked between the dust and the time,
dreamy illusions and vain cry of instincts
Stops life for it’s a perverse emotion
that itself nests among distant languors
like of anyone else’s red dresses.
It’s too late but a rose is still budding
An old ruby now change in a cheat
that connects me to past lives, the
and the other girl just like at that time
and I cannot know which of two wins
Qualche palpito di rilevanza
scosta lisi velluti di noia
Sono petali sparsi sull’erba
da una rosa scarlatta in autunno
sunday, 27th otcober 2012