On Being Human, by C.S.Lewis

Pic from here

 

On Being Human

Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence
Behold the Forms of nature. They discern
Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities
Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying,
Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear,
High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal
Huge Principles appear.

The tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of
Arboreal life, how from earth’s salty lap
The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness
Enacted by leaves’ fall and rising sap;
But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance
Of sun from shadow where the trees begin,
The blessed cool at every pore caressing us
-An angel has no skin.

They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it
Drink the whole summer down into the breast.
The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing
Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest.
The tremor on the rippled pool of memory
That from each smell in widening circles goes,
The pleasure and the pang –can angels measure it?
-An angel has no nose.

The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes
On death, and why, they utterly know; but not
The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries.
The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot
Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate
Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf’s billowy curves,
Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges.
-An angel has no nerves.

Far richer they! I know the senses’ witchery
Guard us like air, from heavens too big to see;
Imminent death to man that barb’d sublimity
And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior,
This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
With living men some secrets in a privacy
Forever ours, not theirs.

 

Clive Staples Lewis

 

First time I read this words, they seems very close to that moving and beautiful movie by Wim Wenders with a so interesting title: Wings of Desire.

You can easily see a clear connection between this poetry and my blog.

Without these words this blog couldn’t exists.

I breathe peace

JB, 2020

 

I breathe peace in this sunset
among ivies, periwinkles and shadows.
I’m my smoke and I melt in the air …
who knows where evening’s breeze will take me

Instinct wind often overwhelmed my
heart and limbs and skin and reason too
toward far, dark and stranger landscapes.
I need order; in the evening
                                            it comes

 

April, 5th 2020

 

 

Italian version

When I regret

Ruins into spring, JB  2016

 

To all my dearest SL friends

 

When I am what I was
I remember cold days
     I’m my regret.

When I see what I saw
into your so bright eyes
     I’m my regret.

When my sin like a claw
got myself on the raw
    I’m my regret.

When this dream turns to farce
falling down as stones, sparse
     I’m my regret.

When my life sudden sadness becomes
for no reason, indeed
     I’m my regret.

When my thoughts across screen
touch your skin
     I’m my regret.

When I get keepsake of
some young girls I met here
     I’m my regret.

Souvenir of weird puppet,
insane mind, silly words:
I’m that bitch, I bring them.
    Yes I’m regret and pain.

 

SL, March, 20th 2020

Jess

 

You lay down on a carpet on grass
lovely girl, young pale girl, while I’m dark
and black weird sinful soul
I look at your chest breathe and feel weak

My legs cannot bear more all the pounds
of so many years gone with no gain
I look at the peace of your pure breast
moving up and down, slow… I’ve a sigh

As a water ghost, pure and light, clean
innocent-looking girl, I’m here, near
to you looking at my dirty skin
after my birthday in this strange time

SL, Elven Forest,
March, 15th 2020

My deep skin

Shadow edge

Photo by Milena Carbone: thank you

 

My skin is so deep, you
can feel it when you touch me and my
mind sinks down in this night that is just
wish for light, dismay, loss, absence. It
is a pursuit

Your skin is so deep too, I can feel
it when my fleshes moan and groan
and awaits satisfaction to my
drive that pulls tight each muscle and fiber
toward that summit where I want be

We are skin and thus our minds sink
while at night we feel by ourselves
and miss each thing and all what’s above,
overwhelming thirst that is a plea

 

September, 19th 2019

Italian version

Tiny

 

There’s impossible love, sometimes, here
there’s impossible touch and kiss: you’re
so thin, soft, little, frail
and I can kill you using a nail

I long for you and your lovely skin
breakable as is weak each young fresh girl
I wish kiss you and hug you so tightly
and sigh for that’s no way to do it really

It’s impossible love, this one, here
as so often I see around me
I am too thin, soft, little and frail
anyone can wound me with a nail

 

 

SL, Silks, August, 20,2019

Genevieve

Near that Unicorn

 

Near a white unicorn, elvish trees
are around us as dark discrete shield.
You lay lazy and beautiful on
the horseback: your arms dreamily down

Our colours are lovely together:
my black skin on your grey one with stars
and red flowers as blood in a night
when tears are not enough, not so much

Our colours are lovely tonight.
My gold eyes into your deep blue ones
where they lose themselves looking into
those two pure water wells in your face

Near a white unicorn, elvish trees
are around here and looking at us.
Black and purple and grey and white stars:
we share our skins close. Naked souls

 

SL, Elven Forest, September, 7th 2019

Peace and crickets

This movie is by Francesca Bonfatti

 

Peace and crickets knead themselves at evening
with leftover heat wave of this day.
I release my mind free: it finds sweetly
you and thinks about you everywhere

You gave me your caresses tonight
I caught you full of passion and quiver
like a tender surrender and gift
to that love that still takes us so tight

Evening star shins up there looking at
me from a deep dark sharp blue clear sky
into the summer night. It is fullness
of memories, that are now too much,
                                                             and it’s hope

 

Italian version

 

On the radio – A photo by Karma Weymann


On the radio, work by Karma Weymann

 

She is lost in a sad radio sound
lovely girl, young pale skin without shame
maybe thinking at something as blame
maybe waiting for someone as bound
 

She is lost in a past radio sound
looking at somewhere, when she had claim
to be happy, alive, when her aim
was to be owned, taken, so wound
 

She is lost in a love as a bound
stockings are as red passion, as flame
her chest needs to be handled: the frame
of a lost true big love never found

I am lost in a sweet dream, a song
from the past, lovely friend with no shame,
I am thinking to you as a flame.
We could think to be love, to be bound
 

We were lost in a sad radio sound.
I could not more be lie in a frame
where now each thing is changing to pain.
I want that you be happy and not wrong

 

SL, Blacklabel Exhibition, January, 27-28th 2018

This life

 

Photo by JB, 2009

This life gave me your eyes so clear, light
during my winter days, a concretion
of cold, sadness and silence
that you win, that you suddenly won when we met us
 

Yes, the life gave me your lovely eyes
full of beauty like the linden smile
when it scatters its scent and the sweetness
in the warm ride to the next solstice
 

The life gave me as present your eyes
and your lips and your hands and your skin
that I touch and a shiver moves me
while my soul moans and quivers and ripples
 

This life gave me your eyes, nowadays
tired yet again stretched forward
beyond me and the world, to the horizon
of each gesture so thrown even further

 

June, 19th 2017

 

Italian version