Tulips so red

Me with the strength in my hands
Driving along the iced Land
Just to see you again
Lying over a foreign bed

I know you’re passing the hell
Year after year without rest
I bring some tulips so red
Your ninetieth to celebrate

And just today
I have realized
Your birthday it is
The day when she died

It is so strange
A bit terrifying
But the death and life
Are always so tied

Show me you can still smile
Even if your life seems a lie
And I swear I will smile with you
Even if today it’s so difficult

And just today
I have realized
Your birthday it is
The day when she died

It is so strange
A bit terrifying
But the death and life
Are always so tied

8th February 2012

Sangue bianco

Continua a fluire
il sangue bianco del cielo
dalle vene strappate
della luna traboccante.

Sento le maree *
sussurrarmi sonnolente
l’avvento del prossimo
fertile risveglio.

Ma io sono arido
come fossa nella terra
e come un pianeta
senza più nessuna stella.

Questa notte.
Da due anni.
Non ci sei più.

* Nella tradizione esoterica celtica, la luna piena che sorge tra il 21 gennaio e il 17 febbraio – quella che c’è stanotte – è detta “Luna delle maree”.

Healing is the best rite

From the new moon I will start to rise
And this is a promise
From the new moon I will stop to cry
And this is a promise

Cause I have again to fight
Cause I have again to lie
Saying that I am full of strength

After this loom I will have to try
To heal myself
From the sick part I have inside
And that makes me sad

There is nothing of better I
Can do that heal in this night
In this snow healing is the best rite

I keep the distance from the marshes
Of the fright and of the fear
I change the instance of the silence
And I sing my way to be

While all around the snow the world is covering
And I’m alone with all my doubts

So a second quarter is here now
And I feel I’m allowed
To celebrate in this place on the ground
I fix my new bound

And in the prayer I can shine
Purified as a new born child
So the illness can slide far from me

I keep the distance from the marshes
Of the fright and of the fear
I change the instance of the silence
And I sing my way to be

While all around the snow the world is covering
And I’m alone with all my doubts

Imbolc – 2012

Offerta

La nebbia è un rituale
Acqua Santa in questo inverno arido
abbraccio ai campi neri
all’insaputa della Luna.

Dio non sa più piangere
su questa terra stentata
di gradini sgretolati
e mani deboli.

Serve una nuova offerta
di intenti forti
e occhi sbarrati
per rendere percettibile
l’armonia nascosta
della vita.

Luce incisa

L’acqua apre e chiude
la percezione del nulla
l’assenza di materia
(l’alito di Dio?)

Ascolto il silenzio acuto
che graffia il sole
e sbriciola i miei occhi.

Nelle rocce ho letto
la preghiera più semplice
che incide la luce
per plasmare il buio.

(Nella foto: interno della Chiesa di Sant’Egidio di Fontanella – Bergamo – 13 gennaio 2012)

Grateful

 

I’ve got the sun of January inside my eyes
I have destroyed my sacred nest for this new light

And only time will say if ever, I’ve committed a big crime
Now I can only write a prayer, to say I suspend the fight

The sign of change is written all over my face
You can read it into the lines that create maze

And everything is going better, or it is going bad?
Am I building up my heaven, or a world like the hell?

But now I feel so grateful
‘cause I’ve had drops of strength
To build something of different
From what previously I had

And I hope this effort
Can be blessed by God
And everything I’ve lost
Can return as a rain of gold…

So please my angel bless the fruit of all my fight
And make these rooms drenched in joy with your pure sight

So that the shadow of my soul, can now find a new home
So that my body and my mind, can find new ways to shine

But now I feel so grateful
‘cause I’ve had drops of strength
To build something of different
From what previously I had

And I hope this effort
Can be blessed by God
And everything I’ve lost
Can return as a rain of gold…

Olio

Sacrificio nuovo
apre questo anno
e pupille dilatate:
le spine cadute
dalla croce.

Sulla maschera del viso
leggo sangue antico
e pensieri stagnanti
che gonfiano
gli occhi.

Ma tu mi hai detto
di fronte al fuoco
di cospargermi la mente
di olio
e lasciarmi scivolare
addosso

la vita.