mercoledì 9 ottobre 2019

Keep firm my roots

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In these times of change
I have not to be blind
and to keep firm my roots
remembering to try
to love the life

I faced so many changes
it is not the first time
and I have understood
I've got inside some truth
to save me through

But to feel better 
I have to imagine 
that first or then 
there will be an end 
and a moment of true peace and of purity of intentions 
but I know that may be this is not the right dimension 

In these times of confusion
I've to find balance
to avoid new intrusions
and some more challenge
that I don't need

But to feel better 
I have to imagine 
that first or then 
there will be an end 
and a moment of true peace and of purity of intentions 
but I know that may be this is not the right dimension

venerdì 4 ottobre 2019

Primigenio

Inverno primigenio
eppure il granoturco
tocca le stelle
e cammino la notte
come esule
in questo luogo ostile
che sentivo casa.



L'immagine è tratta da:
https://gramho.com/explore-hashtag/Granoturco

lunedì 30 settembre 2019

Feel the balance

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The wood is in silence
waiting for the waters *
it’s the same magic of every year
feel the balance between the peace and the fear

The wood stops the fire
of the last summer
it’s the end of the harvest of the year
feel the balance between darkness and light

The leaves can mingle with sky 
 and without noise they fall 
to renew the life 

The leaves can mingle with sky 
and autumn is knocking 
at the door of my soul 
it’s the time of fulfilment 

The wood sings a prayer
In the early evening
Sunset is the beginning of autumn
feel the balance between the death and the life

The leaves can mingle with sky 
and without noise they fall 
to renew the life 

The leaves can mingle with sky 
and autumn is knocking 
at the door of my soul 
it’s the time of fulfilment 

22th September 2019 
* the Autumn Equinox in Druidry is Alban Elfed, which means 'The Light of the Water'

giovedì 26 settembre 2019

Onomatopeico

Cielo onomatopeico:
la danza segreta degli insetti
che si oppone al vento,
il dolce sangue dell’estate
sui campi stuprati.

sabato 21 settembre 2019

L'ultima notte nudo

L'ultima notte nudo
sotto stelle rapaci
accanto a mostri antichi
e a maschere nuove.

L'autunno sarà clessidra
segnerà un passo nuovo
o l'oscuro perpetuarsi
della palude-mantide.

lunedì 16 settembre 2019

Sligo along the river

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1Ceb1KbHwpR
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There is a spider web
over Yeats' statue
does it mean poetry is going to die?

I read some poems
over Yeats' statue in Sligo
but I am going to cry

Sligo along the river 
is a travel in the poetry 
going from the ocean to the 
sacred Lough Gill 
with his words 

There is some little dust
over Yeats' statue
but it's clear here his words are still alive

So in the deep myself
I feel little hope
that someway the eternity exists

Boating on the Garavogue 
when sea becomes a lake 
and in front of me there is 
the little island he called 
Innisfree 

26th August 2019 Sligo, Ireland

domenica 15 settembre 2019

Rosses Point

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By this windy point they say
next step is America
It's a long Atlantic way
that cut for millennia
The vastness can suggest we need a place to be

Cliffs and beaches here can speak
of the end of the world
doesn't matter if it is
for someone or all
The end has always been something new to be

And the seagulls are singing  
together with the ocean  
and there is not a ceiling  
if not the sky so deep  

People on the border of Europe  
the most western men of all  
I pretend to be one of them  
but to another place I belong  

Rosses is a good point
for  people and for fairies
here they can speak the same words
as said the great Yeats
He said "good people" steal the people's souls here*

And the seagulls are singing  
together with the ocean  
and there is not a ceiling  
if not the sky so deep  

People on the border of Europe  
the most western men of all  
I pretend to be one of them  
but to another place I belong  

25th August 2019 Roses Point, Co. Sligo, Ireland  

* No wise peasant would fall asleep under its low cliff, for he who sleeps here may wake ‘silly,’ the ‘good people’ having carried off his soul  (from "The Celtic Twilight", by W.B. Yeats)