Black Lake

Terry's winter land 2021

A pic I took in the last Terry’s work

(Thank you to my friend Terrygold for the last beautiful landscape she built in Second Life. This winter land remembers me a trip I did many years ago to a place in my Alps, Lago Nero – Black Lake. Soon I’ll post the sources of these words on my Italian Blog; they are very symple words that you can easily understand simply using the Google translator)


Frozen landscape tells me ice and snow,
speaks to me of past times and old stories
about young girls and boys just grown up
where all my time was hereafter and further

White nice splendour of silence and peace
it remembers me that day, now far,
when I went to the black lake and its
ice surface began to break in spring

Like the blood of red poppies among
fields of wheat my days bloomed and brief
is their time. Cover, snow, my old stuff!
Because life is a so little thing

White cold peace in the countryside, here,
when time stood still as did in that day.
My mind is young again, even now
my skin withers yet expects still love


SL, Mystic Bay, November, 6th 2021


It’s so light

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


Italian version


In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.


JB, 2019

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

Empty mind

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

Italian version
March, 4th 2018

Green grass grins

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


Italian translation

Maybe snow

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



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

Nature pushes








Nature pushes to explode spring today
this sun day after winter’s ice. Fog
born from wet clods now quick fades
again won by the warm light of life

Seek I sun, find I warm beyond shadows
of my black and white winter thoughts, dreams
risen up from the evil I deep
know in me:
need I Someone who takes me to be


14th March 2013

Will win winter








Will win winter perhaps this my pale
life of nothing but myself exceeding
each my talents, my eyes to my belly,
my uneasy hands shake only the air

Is now winter till here, grey the sky
dirty snow on earth looses. I cold
feel my skin both my soul and this heart.
Easter wish I to be back alive

Stop my winter, delightful sweet love
be my spring toward Easter and truth
of a life story which runs to end
be my colours, the blue in my sky

Take off masks from my so tired face
show me, put me on my true own way
take my hands, force me to be myself
true that people to be whom I’m born

Will win winter, perhaps, if I cry
alone, justice and truth alone looking for.
Give me eyes, give me heart, fulfil me
I’ll fix my sight where you try to see

(Written for you and You in a strange, almost spring snowing day)

20th March 2013