Photo by JB, there, that night
It’s so light air on ice
where we move sudden, heavy,
as dark bodies. White is everywhere.
For two days I’ve no worries with me
Frost now creaks under us: every weight
becomes noise without answer
and this shadow that Moon draws grey down
is surprise on the virgin snow ground
Really priceless is silence or panting
taking my breath away in the cold.
All my world tonight is black and white
and discloses new mountains, new stars
Bernina Pass, February, 16th 2019
In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.
Winter ice freezes any trees’ shade
covering with thick and clotted frost fog
every branch, every trunk and this landscape.
In my heart I feel that rime and hoarfrost
Where are beautiful mountains’ white ghosts
which adorned my strange and flat sea:
the Po Plain waiting quiet for green life
dreaming any sap turgor of March?
Snow is now only an accident, chaos
really not virgin whiteness, it’s hitch
and I live into thoughts of old childs.
Lazy rest in the warmth of my bed.
Frebruary, 1st 2019
Italian versione here
Pic by JB, 2018
Empty mind with no thoughts
doesn’t know what I am
lost in silly streams made
by mist, details and fog
Snow came, snow soon has gone
so the ground is back brown
mix of mud and fresh hopes
of sense and better days
A life’s breath splits the clouds
that invade all the things’
and thoughts’ space
In the winter’s cold March
can grow up
March, 4th 2018
Thinking about past and frost winters...
Photo by J.B., January, 2010
I remember past frost and dark winters
when I was a waste land without sun,
lover of the pale kiss of the fog
as emotion without body or soul
Green grass grins under snow waiting for
spring, then summer and light and so on
and the colours of lives and the flowers.
Even in the frost there’s living life
January, 31st 2016
D.Buzzati, Spirits chasing each other in front of a face
W.H.Auden continued to obsess me with his poem “Another time”, with his words: It’s today in which we live.
Sunday I was chatting with my friend Red: she talked about the snow. My young friend Glitter too said something about the snow, but in her dark way. After, I knew that a my beautiful friend tried to kill herself.
In the next night I wrote this stuff.
Maybe snow will come on thoughts, at last
when my arms will be hard I, at least,
will be alone with my eyes full of mist
then I’ll watch to my life running fast
I’ll be old, I’ll be cold, then my mask
will no more justify any beast
Perhaps free I’ll be me, I’ll exist
yet my life to its end will be at last
I’ll see you, I’ll see Thou in the last
pulse of heart without blood. I’ll be least.
I’ll know all this my life as a beast
resurrect, I’ll find peace. I’ll die fast
November, 9th 2015
No snow fell. Only frozen
butterflies, fluttering fantasies,
rarefied and white grains,
nor prelude nor gloss: nothing
Cankered by the nothing, this land
stands here naked, without any dew
in the sick winter ready to go,
without rhythm. I don’t know more myself
February, 3rd 2015
Italian version here
Pic by leafandtwig: thank you!
In this winter
I am often as
a sad Cattail:
my pond under snow
I loose cotton seeds.
I wait for the spring
when the sun will come back
when I too will be back
February, 12nd 2015