Friday, June 10, 2005

Cloth Covers For Caskets

Pietro Metastasio. These are just songs

The mistreated (by critics not the waist) Metastasio inspired at the end Caproni and Fortini, in addition to having produced thousands of songs and opera librettos. But who said that his themes are empty and its metric stupid? I find it beautiful hendecasyllable the initial wave, and sliding on the next seven day ... Colloquial and the same time music.


The hero of China, 1752

Who Wants to be a sign of madness expressed
The
confide himself to doubt Tues of loving care, I see
Mintee first, then I condemn.

If all weaves
Love So lovely chains, is well put that heart
What
does not live in servitude.
Son delight even the penis
On a happy prisoner
When you join the empire
The beauty and virtue.

Tuesday, June 7, 2005

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Poets pain: Franco Fortini

If you think of Franco Fortini, he is remembered for his analysis of the relationship between literature and politics, or the bright contrast to Pier Paolo Pasolini on the role of the intellectual in society. I remember this sad and lyrical composition that I wanted to memorize. The scheme of a Baroque madrigal deconstructed with long verses, rhymes and other unrelated kissed, and a metric rare, strange sounds from slipping. Fortini has shown us a rough and stony road that perhaps we will never have the courage to take.

composites Solvantur (1994)

If I wanted more time these small words on paper
align (on paper that does not hurt)
the pain that the bones will

you would already too high, too similar to the acute
of birds in the morning fully closed, all silent on the very
magnolia vie

Here I write, dear children. I have no bone or tendon
not tell pitched voice: "I can no more."
Grand Imperial phosphorus, and make ash.

Saturday, June 4, 2005

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Poets Expatriates: Pedro Salinas

visiting the beautiful blog Akiko ( http://Zebre.ilcannocchiale.it ) I was reminded Pedro Salinas. Madrilegno, poet fleeing the horrors of civil war, came to earth to die in exile in North America, in Boston. Obviously I have some sympathy with the exiles. For Salinas, poetry is an adventure to the absolute, I read somewhere, this makes me appreciate a lot. I had a book of his poems, an anthology dell'Einaudi. Now who knows how closed pack is yellowing, in Italy ...

SIN VOZ, Desnuda

Sin armas. Ni las dulces
Sonrisas, ni las llamas de la
Rapidase anger.
Sin armas. Ni las dulces
Sonrisas, ni las llamas de la Rapidase anger.
Sin armas. Ni las
waters of goodness bottomless
or perfidy, curved beak.
Nothing. No weapons. Sola. Upwind
in your silence.
'Yes' and 'no', 'tomorrow' and 'where' sharp break

of useless tips in your silence arrows

smooth without defeat and glory.
out!
kills you -cold, invincible, eternal
So, what saves you,
So, what saves you,
the edge of silence you sharp.

Friday, June 3, 2005

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Silence and Waiting: Cesare Pavese

Tu sei come
terra che mai detto nessuno has . Your non attendi

is non nulla the
parola
that pours forth from the bottom like a fruit in the branches.
There is a wind that comes.
things doubly dead and dried
t'ingombrano and go in the wind.
limbs and ancient words. You tremble
summer.

October 29, 1945

Monday, May 30, 2005

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Poets Found: Leonardo Miguel Angel Bustos Sinisgalli

A poet of Lucania, very good, perhaps unfortunate to be living contemporary of Montale, Ungaretti and Quasimodo. A destiny that makes me dear, and even more dear to his voice subdued, reflective and thoughtful.

Leonardo Sinisgalli, New Elysian Fields (1947)


Who loves does not recognize, does not recall, is obscure
every thought,
is foreign to every event.

later I realized all the years that the air is already on the hill
lighter
the grass is warm ferments.
I had come so late to
not feel afraid,
pound dry stubble rasping
dry walled, cover boredom
like a mirror with the breath. I am a prisoner

bird in a golden cage. The forest
colorful and colorless to me.
The soul has found its
room around you.

*


It is difficult for years to loosen the knots, to

to give a fabulous a lock
unreadable signs lost.

Monday, May 23, 2005

Monetary Gift 21st Birthday Poems



A poet of Argentina, a country that recently often used in my visits. Poetry of love and absence, and since the thought is always there, then gone along with the thought that makes less effort. Even if we pretend that May is already autumn, because autumn is the season for these thoughts:

Realidad FUERTE EN EL ULTIMO DIA DE SETIEMBRE

Entre La Realidad you cuerpo y el mío

hay a street
a Aliento de millones de
trillones extrañas Banderas. Entre

me soledad
cuerpo y me está Miguel Angel
Atado a sus piernas up only
sus almas.

Entre nosotros está el pueblo y el día

Simplemente el día de setiembre.

Vida y realidad del aire.

Monday, May 16, 2005

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Cecco Corner. Sonnet LI. Cursed be the hour (with a paraphrase in modern Italian) Alessandro Manzoni

punt'e the Cursed be the hour and the day
semana and month and year-round
that my wife gave me a deception which
taken me to every living heart And he

yes 'all round and round intertangled
of impiety, of anger, boredom and sorrow,
that for my own good and for me' minor damage
I would like better in a fiery furnace

But which is better than the evil that bad and worse
albeit one and the other is not good for me
penalty evil men crave.

And this I say to my soul
that were it not that I fear the worst,
I myself would have led me dead.

Paraphrase in current Italian

Cursed be the hour, the period, the
days a week, month and year-round
when my wife showed me a trick aimed
who took me completely peace from the heart and thus

wrapped all around in pain
in the cruelty, the anger, the discomfort and anguish
that for my own good and for less damage
would be better if they had put me in a fiery furnace

Why is it better to have only the evil that evil and the worst
and if both are not good to have less pain
prefer evil.

I say this for my soul
because were it not that I fear to go to hell
I'd already taken the life of its own.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

What Does A Grean Beaded Braclet Mean

: Pentecost

I never liked Manzoni as a poet, too rhetorical, emphatic and stuffed with odd meters, which remind me of the Corriere dei Piccoli. It is perhaps a partial exception to Pentecost, one of the hymns. I like this poem the attack solemn Mass by singing, rhymes and some hazardous-type Haiti Disputes (vv.86-87) that make you feel the arrival of poetry even in modern Italy. In any case I thought I'd publish it, today is Pentecost and the need for a Spirit to come down to enlighten me is always very strong.


PENTECOST
[21 June to 2 October 1817]


Madre de 'Santi,
image of the Eternal City, Del
incorruptible blood
Conservative eternal
5 You who, for so many centuries,
Suffer, fight and pray,
What are your tents explain
from one sea;
range of those who wait;
10 Church of the Living God, never
Where were you? what angle you
raccogliea nascent
When your King, the wicked
Section to die on the hill,
15 Purple clods
Of his sublime altar?
is then that the darkness
The star stripped out, the powerful yearning

He put 20 of second life;
And when, as in going
The price of forgiveness,
by this dust
Parent ascended the throne;
25 Partner his groan,
Aware de 'mysteries,
You, of his immortal victory
Daughter, where were you? In your terror alert
sol, Sol 30
secura oblivion,
You were placed in walls,
Up to that sacred day, when
to you the Spirit descended
Rinnovator
35 and inconsunta
torch lit in your right hand;
When Signal de 'peoples,
you on mount,
And it' your lips the source
opened 40 of the word.
As the light rains of rapid
thing into a thing, And the color variety
raises
Wherever you rest;
45 multiplies
Tal rang the voice of Spirit:
Arabic, childbirth, the Syrian
In his sermon 's heard.
adorer idols,
50 shed for each strand, I look
to Solima,
Hear that holy cry
Tired of the cowardly deference, he returns to Earth
: 55
And you open day
a happier age,
Brides, which immediately raises the
Balzar of the pond hidden;
You are already close to break the 60 lap
painful;
the liar pollination
not lift your hand
kept growing to the Holy
What is in your breasts. Why
65, kissing babies, even enslaved
The sighs? And Senator
that nurtures free
Envying aims?
not know that the kingdom the poor
70 Seco Mr. raise?
that all children of Eve
In his grief, he thought?
Nova
skies proclaim duty-free, and nine people;
75 Nine conquests and glory
Won in the best evidence;
Nova, the terrors and the lures property
treacherous,
Peace, the world mocks, but that
80 can not ravish.
O Spirit! appealing
A 'your solemn altars,
Suns to inhospitable jungles, deserts, seas in
Vaghi, 85
algenti from going to Lebanon, Erina all'irta
D'Haiti,
scattered throughout the litigation,

Uni Te heart,
We T'imploriam! Placable
90 Spirit, come down again,
A 'Cultor your gracious, merciful to those who
T'ignora;
Come down and re-creates, in the heart revives
I doubt extinct;
95 E is the Divine Mercy
vanquished the victor. Descend
Amor; The anger in the minds
superb muted:
Dona i thought that the mindful
Last 100 days does not change;
your charitable gifts
Nutra your virtue;
As the lazy sun that opens
From the flower seed ;
105 which then slowly die Herbs humiliation
not cultivated, will rise with shining
Color
flap loose, cast him into the ether
If
110 will not be back that mild
Lume, giver of life, and tireless
altor. We
T'imploriam! Ne 'languid
Pensier unhappy
115 Get pleasing breath, comforter
Aura: Get

Thought for the storm to swollen violent;
There blows a 120
dismay that teaches compassion.
For You raise the poor
to heaven, which is his brows;
Volga laments rejoice, thinking that resembles
;
125 Cui was given a copy,
Doni with a friendly face,
With that modest silence,
What makes you accept the Don.
Spira de 'our dolls
130 Nell'ineffabil rice
Spread the chaste maidens At
purple in the face;
Send to hid hid virgin
The pure joy;
135 Consecrate brides
The Verecondo love. Hardening
de 'bold young talent
The confidant;
Reggi the manly about 140
For infallible sign;
adorn the white hair of a gay
holy desires;
watch shines in errant
Whose hope dies.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

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poets I love: Dario Bellezza

by Proclamation on appeal (1996)


hearts Goodbye, goodbye love
you were welcome, beloved
listened to less

petty figures do not bundle, or suicide.
So once you wrote:
carcasses
ingenuity to fly high,
sacrifice to the enemy, infinite.
Today everything has lost its meaning
relentless threat
loves you too, you also hearts.

*
Poets
talking animals in wretched verses
scented beauty - nobody reads them,
nobody listens to them.
cry in the wilderness of their gravity.



* Today, after a night of insomnia
cultivated by thousands of colored pills barbiturates
damage
anxiety began to write poetry
against poetry,
bother with modesty, inexorable fate,
idiot with the certainty of the weak.

Monday, May 9, 2005

Pinay Actress Nip Slip

Franco Battiato: And you come seeking

A song in the album Physiognomy. A wonderful text that Battiato has dedicated itself to his long spiritual search and all of us, maybe less imaginatively, we have dedicated to our friends, our girls, people who loved each other more. This song without music is dedicated to friends and the friends that I'm going to try soon ...


And you come seeking
just to see or speak
because I need your presence
to better understand my essence.



This popular sentiment comes from a kidnapping
mechanical divine mystical and sensual
I imprisons you.


Should I change the object of my desires
not settle for small daily joys
do as a hermit who sacrifices himself.

And you come seeking
with the excuse of having to talk
because I like what you say and think
because you see my roots.

This century now at the end
saturated with parasites without dignity
only pushes me to be better with more
will.

Emancipation from the nightmare of passion
seek the One above del Bene e del Male
essere un'immagine divina
di questa realtà.

E ti vengo a cercare
perché sto bene con te.

Monday, May 2, 2005

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The Hippopotamus by TS Eliot, a song that I dedicate myself ( lack of anything better)

The Hippopotamus

Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut
Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros autem, ut concilium Dei et
conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic
habeo.

S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.

And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of
the Laodiceans.

The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.

Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.

The hippo's feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.

The 'potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.

At mating time the hippo's voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.

The hippopotamus's day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way--
The Church can sleep and feed at once.

I saw the 'potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.

He shall be washed as white as snow, By all the
martyr'd virgins Kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt miasmal old in the mist.