Through a keyhole

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA

Look at the new year 

through a keyhole 

while the wind 

is shuttering the world 

What do I expect 

is to find somewhere 

the right songline 

to follow to die 

so that I can be reborn again 

leaving behind this somber land 

I don’t sing about tomorrow 

cause the future is my fear 

maybe it will be some sorrow 

by now I close my eyelids 

So that I say I can’t see straight 

with my eyes closed 

what can make me afraid 

Is this the only real way 

to have some hope into 

this mess not to stay 

I am arrived 

to a no return point 

where it can’t be 

enough a simple choice 

to come back where 

there is still my voice 

and I can stop 

to hum behind the noise 

My praise goes to the one out there 

that can give me a truthful hand 

I don’t sing about tomorrow 

cause the future is my fear 

maybe it will be some sorrow 

by now I close my eyelids 

So that I say I can’t see straight 

with my eyes closed 

what can make me afraid 

Is this the only real way 

to have some hope 

into this mess not to stay

Wyrd *

 

Dalla finestra a sud

la ragnatela del tempo *

cullata dal vento

di un ovest sconsolato

dal muro agli alberi

dal mio corpo al cielo

in attesa che si compia

dell'inverno il destino. 

* il riferimento è all'antico concetto anglosassone di "Wyrd", la rete che collega ogni elemento ed ogni creatura dell'universo, e non conosce distinzioni tra passato e futuro.

Fuoco immenso

 

Che fuoco immenso

il sole

falò intergalattico

di rubino e agata

di anime radiose 

come fascine eterne

di sapienza avvampate * 

Disteso su rovine

di terrena esistenza 

ascolto il calore

che sussurra eternità.  

* Secondo la Divina commedia, nel Cantico del Paradiso, nel Quarto Cielo (quello del Sole), ci sono gli spiriti sapienti

It’s Christmas time so cruel sometimes

 

 LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The snow is melting 

 the lights are coloured 

and I can see the emptiness 

conquering my heart 

 

I feel so lazy 

I do want nothing 

and I have nothing to say 

to anyone out there 

 

It’s Christmas time so cruel sometimes 

 

This time full of glory 

is always a promise 

to feel a bit better 

to make some good choices 

 

I don’t want to waste 

also these sacred days 

it’s a simple prayer 

that I say to myself 

 

The night is silent 

the moon still so big 

and I have never felt 

so little before 

 

I feel so lonely 

as in my youth 

what can I do to 

catch somewhere some truth? 

 

It’s Christmas time so cruel sometimes

 

This time full of glory 

is always a promise 

to feel a bit better 

to make some good choices 

 

I don’t want to waste 

also these sacred days 

it’s a simple prayer 

that I say to myself

A promise to be sowed

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking for the mistletoe 

along this so windy road 

that I have always known 

to the south west I go 

 

‘cause it’s the last direction 

to have got the evening gold 

before a light newborn 

a promise to be sowed 

 

so even if we are in the deep darkness 

to say there’s a new light is not a joke 

and from today it can arise 

 each day much more, we’ll be surprised 

 

so even if I wait for the new winter 

and it will be a long frozen one 

yes from today I have to arise 

I swear in front of this dazzling sky 

 

Sky is full of mistletoe 

the one that can give the oak 

of this bright flash yellow 

far from the gray autumn 

 

I can feel so grateful 

for this gift so precious 

nobody else can hold 

this golden bough, at all 

 

so even if we are in the deep darkness 

to say there’s a new light is not a joke 

and from today it can arise 

each day much more, we’ll be surprised 

 

so even if I wait for the new winter 

and it will be a long frozen one 

yes from today I have to arise 

I swear in front of this dazzling sky 

 

Christmas / Alban Arthan 2021

Sud est

 

 L’alba promette fuoco 

 dal sud est acrilico 

 ma i rami spogli 

 bianchi di gelo 

 sono ossa sparse 

 su campi nucleari

To abandon

 

 LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA 

 

 

 

 

 

In these nights I own the possibility to die or to grow 

it is not a must to change oh everything of what I was 

going towards a future that I can only imagine 

strewing pieces of myself that can become some hinges 

 

In these nights the cold of this late autumn going straight to winter 

It gives the sense to have a dyed place only to stay warm 

and the scream of the loneliness can become so loud 

on the opposite site there’s the appalling crowd 

 

Left alone outside the world 

in the place to which I belong 

I am used to say I’m always wrong 

But who am I to say I am wrong? 

 

There’s subtler feeling I love 

that makes me think I am not 

the culprit for all the things I’ve lost 

and all I have to do is to abandon 

 

And the sky tonight has got the perspicuity to understand my mood 

It can woo my thoughts with an affability as only God can do 

and I can cry without crying at all 

and sometimes to find back the really right words 

 

Left alone outside the world 

in the place to which I belong 

I am used to say I’m always wrong 

But who am I to say I am wrong? 

 

There’s subtler feeling I love 

that makes me think I am not 

the culprit for all the things I’ve lost 

and all I have to do is to abandon